


Flight Pattern

by lysanatt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Fluff, Kidnapping (assumed), M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mating, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Mpreg, No crack, Other M/M pairings - Freeform, Rare were-creatures, Road Trips, Romance, Were Politics, Were-Creatures, protective!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/lysanatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The were-albatross is fiercely monogamous and mates only with other were-albatrosses. That is unfortunate, because when tree-trash werecat Dean bumps into Castiel, a high society omega albatross, it is instant attraction. Not everybody is on with the program, so Castiel and Dean take desperate measures to get what they both want. Accused of kidnapping, fleeing from Castiel's flight alpha, two grumpy brothers and the police, Cas and Dean go on a road trip across the country, destination Vegas, dead set on being both mated <i>and</i> married before they return to their families.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight Pattern

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2015_SPN J2_xmas exchange @ LiveJournal.
> 
> Oh, and if you are searching for crack...*handwave* ...this is not the fic you've been looking for. No, really. No crack.
> 
> If anyone wants to know more about rare albatrosses and their fiercely monogamous life-long bonding practices in real life, I recommend this YouTube lecture, [Wings of the Albatross](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=toJwBgjCZMI), by National Geographic photographer Frans Lansing – obviously with great pictures and video clips to go with it. Fic title inspired by a quote from Jarod Kintz, the master of absolutely surreal love quotes.

_The birds fly south for the winter not because it’s cold, but because they have wings. Similarly, love has the ultimate flight pattern, and that pattern is plaid._  
~Jarod Kintz 

**Chapter 1. Hunter and the Hunted**

The black limo stops right in front of the mahogany sandwich board. It has an arrow on it, drawn in chalk, that points to the building at Dean's left hand. The sign says "Tonight: Hunters' Convention 2015" which is where Dean's going. The limo's windows are blind and dark, leaving no clue as to who's inside. No hunter Dean knows shows up in a car like that; no hunting weres hide behind bullet proof glass and steel-enforced doors. They are hunters, not prey. No, limos are not for people like Dean. Still, Dean's curiosity gets the better of him, and he stops, wanting to know who the corporate douche is and why he's here. Or she. In Dean's experience, douchebags come in any gender.

The driver is a lean man with a mean expression. He glares at the audience menacingly as he opens the door for his passenger. It's a guy, not young, not old. The right age, in Dean's opinion. The right height. The right build. 

Right. 

Dean stares, silent, at the man.

"Who _is_ that?" Dean finally asks, knowing that Sam knows. Sam always knows. He instantly forgets that he asked, in favor of paying rapt attention to the nice view.

Sam's voice becomes irrelevant droning, interference that disturbs Dean in his appreciation of the man walking past them, surrounded by bodyguards. Or at least Dean thinks that they are bodyguards; they are all tall, bulky, and the telltale bulging jackets reveal that the men are carrying. Kevlar, guns, the whole shebang. And there sure is something precious to protect. The guy they are accompanying is tall and built, built, but slender. His suit is cut perfectly; it enhances his shoulders, showing off narrow hips and muscular thighs. The scent, a hint of omega that hits Dean like the smell of catnip, is similarly enticing. Dean takes a deep breath, trying to remember the scent, wanting the olfactory memory to last. The scent is not rosy or perfumed; it's the scent of a strong omega. He smells of the sea and of cold wind in the mountains. Wilderness and sky. There's a touch of pines and the fresh smell of dew-damp grass in the morning. It's powerful. It's _perfect_.

Dean wonders if anybody is going to notice it if he starts purring. 

"—an albatross. He is not for you, Dean, they are incredibly rare and—"

Albatross? Dean pretends to be entirely indifferent. "Shut up; I know that they are. I am not asking for the dude's hand in marriage. I can look." Dean doesn't even bother looking at Sam because watching the epitome of omega hotness parade past his eyes is so much more important.

"Dean, it's Castiel Novak of the frigging Alighieri clan." Sam hisses and grabs his shoulder, keeping him from stepping forward. "You can't."

"Oh." Dean feels his cheeks flush, not that he has anything to be ashamed of, although he maybe should have recognized him. Castiel Novak is to weres what Prince Charles is to England. Just way hotter, and like a million years younger. "What the fuck is he doing here?" This time Dean looks with more than desire. Instead there is true interest; it's not every day an albatross comes down to earth, but it is even more rare that someone like Castiel Novak is out in public, bestowing upon ordinary people his glorious presence. Dean shakes Sam's hand off with an annoyed shrug.

"He sure isn't out to find a mate; the were-albatross is fiercely monogamous and they mate for life, and only with each other. Once mated, that is it for them."

"Hm, I thought all that crap about life-mates was, er, crap. Not much to choose from then. Poor guy."

"It is crap. But were-albatrosses still mate that way. It's in their blood. Maybe they are more like their animal counterparts than most of us? That's what the albatross does in the wild. Mate for life."

"Thought so. Crap, I mean." Dean realizes that he's still staring at Castiel Novak. "What are there? Ten albatrosses left?"

" _Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Lucifer, Castiel,_ and _Zachariah_ ," Sam lists, as if he knows it by heart. "Six in America. A handful overseas. Zachariah Alighieri is their flight alpha and the CEE of the Alighieri Inc. conglomerate. Castiel Novak is the only omega, _and_ he's their CEO, outranking even their alpha when it comes to the business side of things. Besides, Michael, Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel are Castiel's nest-brothers, so that leaves _one_ were for mating purposes."

Yeah, it's no wonder the guy's heavily guarded. Mated to Castiel Novak-Alighieri, the lucky alpha takes the express elevator to the top of society. As for Castiel, _rich, powerful_ and _handsome_ don't even begin to cover it. Dean scoffs at the mere idea of mating, and even more so of mating for money. People are idiots.

"So Zachariah is the lucky man, erm, albatross?"

"What am I? Some walking gossip rag?" Sam snorts derisively. "Castiel turned him down. Zachariah wasn't pleased and made a fuss about it for a while, which is sort of understandable, if one insists on the purity and preservation of were-lines, that is." Sam throws a bitchface, leaving no doubt about what he thinks of purists.

Somehow the knowledge that Castiel Novak is not mated makes Dean feel relieved, not that he should care, but it feels wrong that Castiel the omega should mate with another albatross that he doesn't want. Castiel Novak, Dean thinks, is not for this Zachariah dude. Or for anybody else, for that matter. He continues to stare at Castiel's back, like it is impossible to look away.

"Dean? _Dean_?" 

Dean doesn't take his eyes off Castiel Novak, but simply swats blindly at Sam to make him shut up. He watches Castiel walk away from them, towards the entrance to their hotel. Castiel Novak is attending? No, of course not. Albatrosses might be hunters, but they are not _hunters_. Fish and rabbit are not the same. Unless rabbits have developed gills since Dean ate one last.

Right before the huge glass doors, Castiel stops. He rubs his neck, like he feels Dean's eyes on him, and turns. "Wait here," he commands, waving the bodyguards away. He looks around, searching for something.

Dean has stopped breathing.

"You," Castiel Novak says, his tone commanding. "You there!" 

Dean looks around, like it's a mistake that someone such as Castiel Novak is speaking to a lowly were hunter. "Me?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

Dean swallows. "Dean Winchester." He nods at Sam at his left. "That's my brother, Sam."

" _What_ are you?" Castiel demands. "Hunters, obviously." He points at the posters, decorating the hotel's windows, tastefully framed. They tell the world that the American Hunting Were Association is having its annual celebration inside. 

Dean has no idea why Castiel wants to know, but it's no secret, not as such, they just don't speak about it. They are tree trash and den dirt, him and Sam. Mixed, barely tolerated in each their glaring and pack. "Bengal. Sam's a wolf."

Castiel Novak's eyebrows rise in surprise. "Crosses?"

At least Mr Novak is polite about it. He could have used other, less PC expressions. Tree trash, for instance. "Yeah."

"And you are a... tiger?" There's a flicker of something fearful in Castiel's eyes. He is a bird after all, and the mere mention of a werecat might not sit well with him. The nervous look disappears instantly, as if he keeps a very tight control over himself.

Dean laughs, something that seems to surprise Castiel Novak even more. "Nothing that exotic. Not a tiger. Bengal cat."

"I see." There's a smile, a wonderful, lovely one. "I like cats."

"And I like tweety birds," Dean winks and licks his lips a little too hungrily. He groans. How could he say something so stupid to someone like Castiel Novak? It might be that he feels a little weak in the knees, but... nah. A smile does not get him weak at the knees.

"You like tweety birds?" Castiel asks, voice gravelly, managing to keep a serious face for all of five seconds before his serious face turns into another of those wonderful, bright, wide smiles. "Well, putty tat, I suggest that you don't bite off more than you can chew."

Maybe it really is Castiel's smile that has an effect. "So you'd let me? Bite you?" The words are out before he can stop them, like he's suffering from a fatal bout of foot-in-mouth disease. Inwardly cringing, Dean _knows_ that he can't speak like that to Mr Novak, can't flirt, can't _have_. Weres don't mate outside their species, because only trash does that, like their mom and dad did because love was more important to them than pack or glaring. And thinking of mates, Dean just managed to hint at a potential mating between himself and the handsome Mr Novak. Way to go, offending one of the... no, _the_ most powerful omega in the States by suggesting he'd roll in the dirt with a tree trash werecat. Plus, it isn't as if Dean wants any mate, no matter how rich or handsome. He's a tomcat, not a neutered house cat.

"We'll see," Castiel says with an enigmatic smile, ruining with the mere curl of a lip any preconceived notion about were royalty and what can be done and what cannot. "See you around, Dean Winchester." Castiel looks over his shoulder once, hesitating, before he continues inside the hotel. It has _Hotel Dante_ in gilded letters above the tall glass doors. The doorman bows politely and deeply as Castiel walks past him.

Dante? As in _Dante Alighieri_? Oh, well. There's lineage for you. It's Castiel Novak-Alighieri's hotel. 

Crap.

*

With a drink in one hand, a plate filled with a pile of meat and then some, Dean strolls around in the huge dining room, chatting with people he knows well, nodding to those he recognizes, and greeting a few he does not know. It's like it always is on these occasions, Sam and he drifting apart, Sam ending up with the wolves, Dean talking to several werecats. Usually he and the other Bengals find a table, talking tree business. They aren't a glaring of cats, not as such; they are solitary, and most purebred Bengals prefer to keep to themselves. Sometimes it annoys Dean. He sure isn't a wolf, but with his mixed genes he turned out more social than most cats. Usually he's fine with it, enjoying the quiet company of his less biased tree mates, just as he gets along surprisingly well with Sam's pack mates. On the bottom line, they are all hunters, weres that love the chase and the prey. The hunt is a way to leash the need to take and breed; they keep sane and sound, refusing to let themselves revert to the old ways. It's 2015, after all.

But tonight Dean cannot find that casual, easy mood. He flitters from one table to the next, never content to sit down and talk, never content with the food. He leaves the full plate on a table with two young wolves; they are munching on the abandoned chicken wings before Dean has turned away. He takes a swig of the beer he's carrying and it tastes like cat pee, and yes, Dean knows what it tastes like; he's a _very_ neat Bengal in his animal form, and it's not like he carries a washcloth with him on hunts. He doesn't like the taste when it's in a bottle, either, even if it says beer on the label. 

He finally lands at the bar, strangely restless. He gets another beer, another brand, and it still tastes like somebody wrung the stuffing out of an incontinent cat into his glass. Dean glares at the glass like he could turn the liquid into something drinkable. It doesn't work. A girl - legs, eyes, tits—all the girly parts in all the right places, and pretty, too—comes up to him, a slight purr in her throat and kisses ready on her lips.

"Hi. You look—" is all she manages before Dean hisses at her, his right paw claws extended without him even noticing it until he looks down at his them, surprised to see them out.

"No," he says, as if the hissing wasn't enough.

"Sorry," she says and backs off, wide-eyed. "I didn't think you had a mate. You don't have—" She waves at her neck, pure and long and white and entirely without any appeal.

"No, I'm sorry," Dean manages to croak. "I didn't mean to be rude. I think I'm getting down with something. Not feeling too well. I'm really sorry if I offended you."

She smiles and nods and turns, long, slender legs and a pert little ass that Dean would have liked to grab any day, just not today for some reason. Maybe he's just becoming a grumpy old man. At least he's learned from the best. Uncle Bobby has perfected the art of being grumpy. Tonight Dean understands Bobby better than ever. He is irritated, annoyed, restless, aimless, and irritated again, a vicious cycle of discontent. He puts his glass of potential cat pee back on the bar and asks for a glass of water. At least it's clean and cold, but it does nothing to still the odd thirst that he is feeling. 

He waves at Sam who is still the center of attention, a small pack of young wolves milling around him. Funny how Sam is like a happy puppy in the company of his pack, usually he's the grumpy one, his amazingly bitchy bitchface showing at least three times a day on a good day. But whatever. Sam's having fun and Dean's not going to be a party pooper. He drifts out from the dining room into the atrium lobby, avoiding anyone he knows. He sniffs around in the corners, along the columns and the deep leather sofas. He stops there for a moment, wanting to sit down in one of them, suppressing a need to start rubbing his face against the worn, soft leather. leaving his mark on the couch. It smells good, and he wants it to smell like him, too. He stops before he makes a fool of himself; only a kitten would do something like that outside their own home. Instead Dean kneads the armrest until it's warm and pliant under his hand, the leather creaking ever so slightly. He purrs and kneads until he has calmed himself. Content with the result, he continues his restless walk around the hall. 

The elevators ping and Dean hesitates in front of them, watching the little green indicator numbers change above each set of doors. One elevator arrives and the doors open with a soft-smelling woosh of winter pine and sea breeze. It's vague, but Dean takes a deep breath, mouth open. He can taste it better that way. Without thinking, he steps into the car and presses the top floor button; it'll give him a minute to breathe in the alluring scent without making a total fool of himself. 

Halfway between the ground floor and sixteenth, Dean realizes what he's doing. "What the fuck," he groans, happy the elevator is empty. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean Winchester?"

He knows what's wrong. Castiel Novak of the Alighieri clan is what's wrong with him, because it is Castiel's scent that he's been searching for all evening.

It's not like Dean couldn't stop himself, of course he could, he's not an animal. It's more that he doesn't _want_ to stop and that's fine. He doesn't hurt anybody or bother them by sniffing around a little. He'll enjoy the scent for a moment longer before take the elevator back down, and he'll be done with it and with the fucking tweety bird. Castiel is so far above his reach that even if cats could fly, Castiel would still be outside Dean's range. So he takes what he can get, another whiff of Castiel's scent, that's all.

Dean holds that thought as he is walking down the corridor, his steps muted by a luxuriously thick carpet. The classy cream walls and the expensive art on the walls barely register with him as he follows the increasingly stronger scent of alluring omega. Dean starts to purr again, deeply satisfied.

This isn't going so well. 

The door has the number 1 on it. It's brass and polished to a shine. Dean rubs his face against the door frame, scent-marking it, letting everybody know that Castiel is _his, his, his._ He purrs contentedly, and marks the other side, just for good measure. With so many weres in one place, it has to be done.

Caught up in Castiel's scent and slow and sluggish because he is so damned _pleased_ with the scent marking, Dean is almost falling into the room when the door is yanked open. A man he doesn't recognize is standing in front of him, gun in hand. His eyes are cold and dead. Fish eyes.

"Who the hell are you and what do you think you are doing?" the man that is not Castiel demands. He looks angry. Dean cannot blame him.

"Polishing the door handle," Dean replies, slamming a perky grin on his face, pretending that he's entirely unfazed, being called out on his frankly unacceptable behavior. "Anything else that needs polishing?"

"Who is it, Zachariah?" somebody asks from within the depths of the room. The suite of rooms, judging from the look of it. 

"Castiel," Dean sighs, not loud enough for Zachariah to hear. 

Zachariah looks at Dean like he's dirt. "Riff raff." Zachariah makes a small wave, brushing Dean off. "If I see you near Mr Novak-Alighieri again, I'll have security remove you from the premises. Understood?"

Dean growls right in the face of Zachariah Alighieri, oldest alpha of the Alighieri clan, one of the most powerful alphas in the States, because somehow _nobody_ is going to come between him and his— "Step aside," Dean commands, his voice low and dark. "Or I'll—"

"I'll take it from here, Zachariah. Just..." Castiel points to the room behind him. "I can manage. He's just a kitten."

"Of course. Cats and birds get along so well. Castiel, it's not prop—"

"I said, thank you, Zachariah. I can manage." Castiel's voice is pure steel. 

God, he's perfect. Dean even ignores the jab aimed at him. He's not a kitten... well, at times he is. Especially when he can get Sam to scratch his ears and give him a belly rub, mostly because Sam believes every time that Dean is not going to claw him when he gets the chance. Sam's totally gullible, which the many scratch marks on his hands prove only too well.

Zachariah looks like he swallowed a lemon covered in acid. "Very well."

Castiel is silent as he watches Zachariah disappear. He doesn't speak before the door to the inner rooms has closed behind him. He turns. "Hello Dean," he says, looking about as welcoming as an iceberg. "What are you doing here? The Hunters' Association Convention is downstairs."

"Yeah, I..." It hits Dean how foolish he's been. He looks over his shoulder at the nothing that is in the empty corridor. "I should probab— probably, erm—" Dean stutters, his brainpower shutting down in the presence of the divine being that is Castiel. "Am I going to get you into trouble for knocking at your door?"

"Technically you weren't knocking," Castiel says. "Yes and no."

"I didn't mean to—" Dean doesn't finish that sentence, either. "I mean, your scent..." He can't say it. Admitting that he followed Castiel's scent is as good as admitting that he is not able to control his alpha hormones, and that lie got old ages ago: any alpha trying to use that excuse is demonstrating clearly that he – or she – is uneducated, crass and socially unacceptable. Dean doesn't want Castiel to think that he is not able to behave like a normal were, fully in control of his nature. "I apologize." Dean feels dizzy in the presence of _his, his, his_ omega, the scent almost overwhelming him, making him want to throw himself at Castiel's feet. Dean refuses to bow down to his instincts, but he cannot stop himself from purring, a deep, content sound, telling exactly how happy Dean is to be close to Castiel. 

"Are you all right?" Castiel asks. He tilts his head, looking more like a confused owl than an albatross. It's adorable. Dean's purring becomes even louder. He blushes, because there's no way Castiel won't understand the implications of Dean's content purr.

"Yeah, I... erm."

"You?" Castiel tilts his head.

"Maybe you'd... I dunno—"

"Maybe I'd like a drink?"

"Yeah."

"You do know who I am, Dean?"

"Sam told me."

"And he told you what I am?"

"Yeah."

"And yet here you are."

Dean laughs. It's ridiculous, seen like that. He's a lowlife hunter, Castiel is the pinnacle of desirable, probably the most eligible omega in the entire were community. In the entire country. "Yeah. I know, I mean I understand why you wouldn't—"

"Okay."

"Okay? What do you mean, okay?" Castiel wants to have a drink with him? Really? Dean can feel tension and joy bubble in his chest. "Okay?"

"Yes. I'd like to go out with you for a drink. Okay. I'd like a Bees' Knees." Castiel licks his lips. "I like honey."

"I'm a beer man myself, but whatever suits your fancy." Dean sends Castiel a wide grin, immensely satisfied with himself, and even more satisfied with Castiel, who clearly is defying any and all clan rules to mingle with the plebes.

"Let me get my shoes."

Dean looks down at Castiel's bare feet and wishes he was allowed to take the rest of his clothes off, to undress him slowly, revealing what is meant to be for him only. For the first time Dean is truly recognizing the feelings that have surged through his body and mind since the moment he laid eyes on Castiel Novak. _Mine_ , is all Dean can think, and the possessiveness he's been feeling rises to hitherto unknown heights. _Fuck, Dean_ , he tells himself. _If you do this, if you pursue it, there is only one way out._ Somehow it doesn't feel as scary as it should have. Surely the Alighieri clan isn't going to take this lying down; the hostility from Zachariah is thick enough to be cut in halves and used to build houses from, so hoping for someone like Castiel is too far out, drink or no drink. Still, Dean cannot bring himself to bail out, consequences be damned.

He looks up again, at Castiel. Castiel hasn't moved, he merely stares at Dean, lips parted, eyes soft.

"I'm going to get you into neck-deep trouble for this, ain't I?" Dean asks softly, knowing the answer already. "Being what I am and all that. What you are."

"I don't care." Castiel's voice is similarly low, but there's a steely firmness in it that tells Dean that Castiel is not one to let himself be bossed around by alphas. "I am entirely indifferent to species. It's my brothers and Zachariah who are obsessed with it, and see where that got us."

"You mean close to extinct?" Leave it to Dean to put his foot in his mouth. Again. It's the truth, though. What with six were-albatrosses left, and only one omega, it's a done deal. Extinction is close.

Castiel nods. "Unless I mate with one of my brothers or I find a mate in another country. Obviously neither is an option. I am not leaving the company in the hands of..." Castiel looks over his shoulder.

Dean gets it. He doesn't like Zachariah, either, and he has known the man for all of two minutes. "But your kittens—" he begins, again stopping when he realizes what he's implying. Of course Castiel's children would not be cats, unless...

Castiel smiles enigmatically. "It's the sole solution, putty tat."

Dean wants to ask what Castiel means by 'sole solution', but he can't. He _can't_. He is sure he is misunderstanding what Castiel is saying. Dean is sure he has lost any and all brain activity but the part that registers how perfect it is, basking in the glory and the power that is Castiel. Cas. The were he wants more than anything he's ever wanted.

"I am getting this right, Cas? You want to... with a were that is not... albatross?" Dean realizes that the connection between his brain and his mouth truly has been severed and that he's been speaking all this time.

Another smile. Cas bows his head and tilts it in a movement that is so alluring that Dean has to use all his determination not to reach out and _take_. "Shoes, Dean. Wait."

Dean can manage that. Short, uncomplicated orders, that works when his mind is filled with Cas, Cas, Cas. He watches Castiel as he disappears into the suite, his... God, the ass. Dean bites his lip hard, trying to keep sane. Castiel is innocence, sex, seduction, intelligence, power, all in one stylishly dressed package. He's... mate. The word insists on staying on top of his thoughts, on the tip of his tongue, teasing him with its inherent insanity. Dean never wanted a mate, and Cas is so far up the societal pedestal that Dean would need an albatross's wings to get there, because no ladder would be long enough to get him even close. He's a lowly cross, shunned by many, if not the majority of were-kind. He's not ashamed of what he is; but some weres still live in the last century. Hell, some even in the one before that. Zachariah, for instance. There is no way that Cas wants a tree trash mate.

Occupied with his thought about mates and mating, it takes a little before the angry voices from inside the suite register with him.

"—never going to take you as my mate, Zachariah, and you have no say in it. You may be flight alpha, but I am your employer. If you persist, that might not last, and I'm sure another corporation would be happy to have you. It's drinks, not a mating."

Zachariah's voice is so low what Dean can't separate the words. One sentence is audible, however, perhaps because of the venom it is laced with.

"I'm your alpha, and that boy is nothing but scum, earth scum."

"If you see it that way," Castiel says calmly, "it's your prerogative. Goodbye, Zachariah."

A minute later Cas is at the door again, this time with shoes on and a jacket casually slung over one arm. "Sorry about that."

"No, I... I can see why he'd think so. He doesn't know me. Maybe he's simply used to see the world from above." Another way to call the asshole arrogant and elitist.

Castiel closes the door behind them and takes Dean's arm. The warmth that shoots up Dean's arm is intense. Dean can't hold back a shudder and a sigh. This evening is going to cost him for the rest of his life. If he leaves Cas, leaves _without_ Cas, then there will be nothing but regret. He will never find another mate. He'll never want another were the way he wants Castiel.

They walk along the corridor to the elevator without speaking. It's not necessary. There is just Cas's hand on his arm, warm, constant. They stop, and Castiel presses the button. 

"Come with me," Dean says. "I need you to come with me away from here. No drinks. Away."

"Yes," Castiel says, as if it's the most obvious idea in the world, that he goes where Dean goes. Maybe it is. "Yes."

"You want to know where we're going?" If Dean only knew himself. All he knows is that they need to get out of here and find out what this is all about. It might be that Castiel has an entirely different opinion than Dean, but they need to find out. 

"No." Castiel is, if nothing else, quite direct. "Not particularly."

The carriage arrives and they step inside. The mirrors on the wall show an infinite number of Castiels. But there is only one, and Dean wants him.

"You know how it's gonna look, tweety," Dean says quietly. "Poor tree trash alpha cross, and rich purebred omega. Cat and bird. They'll think I took you without your consent."

"And they would be wrong," Castiel says, turning to Dean, hesitating but a second before he presses a soft kiss to Dean's mouth. It lingers there for a while, the sensation and the sweet scent of Castiel's breath. He looks up at Dean, eyes like the stars that he flies so close to in his other form. "They would be very wrong."

They make it to the Impala without being stopped or questioned. Dean assumes that the only person in the world who dares attempt to stop Castiel from doing whatever it is he is doing is Zachariah, and see where that went. Cas sure isn't afraid to stand up for himself, and seeing that he is Zachariah's boss, it sort of cancels out that Zachariah has rank as flight alpha.

"Maybe I don't have to take you away after all," Dean suggests. "You don't really answer to anybody."

"You don't know my nest brothers," Castiel says with a dry laughter. "It's not that they can stop me, but the trouble they'd create..." Castiel slides into the passenger side of the bench seat. He turns and looks at Dean as Dean gets in, shutting the door to the noise in the street. "Please, take me away."

What can Dean do other than to obey? He turns the ignition, and Baby's motor comes to life with a roar. Dean sets her in reverse, makes a loud spin and drives away from the hotel as fast as possible, without actually being a danger to anyone, apart from a few lazy pigeons that have to take off to save their measly lives. It earns him a look from Cas.

"Sorry about that." Dean makes a cheeky grin. "Your flight... You'd rather ask for forgiveness than for permission?" Not that Dean is sure what, exactly, Castiel needs permission for, but he sure knows what he'd like Cas to do. "Still feel like it if I suggest Vegas?"

"I have done what I have been asked to do all my life, being a good little soldier for the company."

"Except you kick ass. You rose to be CEO, and you refused Zachariah as a potential mate."

"We mate for life, Dean. It's nothing to take lightly. It was not something I wanted to rush. I owed it to Zachariah to take time to consider his proposal. He might come off as unpleasant, but he isn't like that, not all the time."

"Right." Dean feels a little like a bird that has been shot down, not dead, but slowly expiring, the last few feeble breaths forced into his dying chest.

"Yes. It was right. Zachariah... I thought about it for months, out of respect for my flight alpha. But I knew all the time that it would never... I'd never." Castiel looks out the window, away from Dean. He is quiet. "I was waiting."

So months. But it's all right. Dean can wait too. He doesn't want to wait, but it's Castiel or no one. He can wait forever if need be—if Castiel is still implying what Dean thinks he is implying, that is. Dean nods. "So maybe Vegas isn't such a—" Dean begins.

"With you—" Castiel interrupts, his words sharp and swift. "With you I didn't need to think at all. I knew the moment I saw you." Castiel turns his head. His eyes are soft as silk. "I knew the moment our eyes met when I passed you outside the hotel. It's the interstate all the way. Route 80 from here."

Dean barely avoids slamming the brakes. He stops the car in the middle of the street, lightheaded and confused, despite being the one who came up with all the suggestions himself. _Knew what? Route 80 to where and why?_ "Cas, please!"

"You wanted to go to Vegas. We are going to Vegas. Route 80 to Denver, then 70. It is not necessary, however. Vegas. I can take you as my mate anywhere, but I am aware that you might want our union recognized by humans as well. So would I. Las Vegas it is."

Dean tilts his head back and laughs, happiness making his heart beat faster. When he stops laughing, Castiel is staring at him, still. "Sorry," Dean gasps and dries his eyes. "Thank God that one of us is able to say outright what he wants." Reaching for Cas's hand, Dean says, "So you're willing? To—" Dean shakes his head, unable to comprehend that he is about to mate.

"—become your mate," Cas says, like they are already so attuned to each other that they are finishing each others' sentences. "Yes."

"Yeah, mate. I'd like that," Dean says and sighs a very happy sigh. It hasn't sunk in yet, not really, although Dean understands the words.

*

They are on Route 80 and near Des Moines before anyone misses Castiel. Cas has fallen asleep, head on Dean's shoulder, lulled to sleep by the calm rocking of the car. Castiel's fingers are curled around Dean's arm almost possessively, like he's laying a claim to Dean, just as Dean wants to lay a claim on Cas, preferably as soon as possible, although it has no haste, not now, not when Dean is sure that they both want the same thing.

Suddenly it all looks so easy. Dean never wanted a mate. He has never been in a long-term relationship, except that one time with Lisa, and except that six months ain't anywhere near being long term at all. Forever sure is long term, and it should feel scary to someone like Dean, the emperor of commitment issues and one-night stands, and to Cas, the virgin unicorn of the Alighieri clan. Instead it feels easy, smooth. It's Cas, and it's Dean, and if there ever were anybody who could pull through _forever_ in a relationship , it's them, Dean knows it with a deep certainty that refuses to move over, even when he lets loose on it his usual rambunctious relationship-refusing arguments.

Maybe it's how it feels when one has found his life-mate? Smooth. Soft. Whole. Dean looks at the handsome man at his side. If this is how forever is going to be, Dean is _in_. It's not merely easy. It's perfect.

Perfect.

Until Cas's phone buzzes. 

It's not that it's not perfect, sitting in the car, driving down the highway with Cas—it's that somebody dares intrude on their mating that annoys him. Not that Dean thought it wouldn't happen sooner or later, seeing that he stole Cas away from his flight without as much as telling Sam that they were leaving, but he hoped for later.

"Cas, baby?" Dean reaches out, stroking Castiel's cheek gently. "Cas? Tweety?"

Cas makes a small sound, yawning and stretching like a sleepy kitten, making Dean's protective instincts flare. If anybody is trying to hurt his mate he will _end_ them. Dean's a hunter. He hunts rabbit, mice and the occasional songbird, but in Zachariah's case, he is willing to take on the challenge of an albatross.

Cas opens his eyes, clutching at Dean's jacket as he yawns again. "Hm?" Cas manages while he pats his pocket for the telephone.

"I think Zachariah wonders where you are by now."

Castiel's face is lit up by the light from his phone. He stares at the screen as if he doesn't comprehend what's going on. "Yes."

"You okay?"

Castiel doesn't reply immediately. He rolls down the window, letting in cool night air. It smells of dirt and fall. Castiel stares at the phone a moment longer before he turns it off and throws it out the window. "I am now."

"If that's how you want it," Dean says, his tone of voice appreciative. He admits he likes Castiel's style.

"Vegas," Castiel points to the road ahead of them.

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

"Maybe we should find a place to sleep?"

"I'm used to crappy motels with an occasional bed bug; I probably shouldn't be the one to choose. Nothing too fancy, though. I'm not a billionaire."

"I am." Castiel says it like he'd say something in the direction of 'I am a were,' as if it is the most natural and obvious thing in the world. "However, it's your duty as my alpha to take care of me. You choose."

"Demanding already?" Dean grins, his smile so wide it hurt. "I can live with that." Cas is perfect. It really doesn't matter to him what Dean is, only who he is. Castiel's status could have made lesser alphas than Dean feel threatened or declawed, but it's not like that. They are a team, one not whole without the other, like the mating instinct that pulled them together in the first place really did so because they fit together so well. 

"You need to sleep, Dean," Cas decides. "You have been driving for six hours."

"I'm used to it," Dean argues. It's not a problem; Sam and he have been road-tripping for years, and six hours are nothing.

"You need sleep. I would like you to feel rested tomorrow morning," Castiel insists.

"But— Oh. You mean..." Maybe Cas isn't that much of a virgin unicorn. "The mating. The actual mating."

"Before Zachariah calls in the bloodhounds." 

"Before they find us it'll be too late."

"No. Zachariah is not the master of my life, or my master, and he knows it." Castiel smiles angelically. "It'll never be too late, because I will not let anyone decide for me who I am to marry or mate. I merely do not wish to wait. So we mate tomorrow."

Castiel's determination makes Dean laugh again. "You do know that some might think that an omega is not supposed to be this bossy, right?"

"Give me your phone," Castiel says and holds out his hand for it.

"You gonna throw that out the window too?" Dean doesn't hesitate. If Cas wants his phone gone, it goes. He can get a burner phone in Des Moines.

"I'm going to find us a place to sleep. Or a few. To choose from, I mean. I did tell you that you could choose," Castiel says, deliberately arrogant, a hint of the powerful businessman behind the words. "Now that I've found an alpha who doesn't think with his dick, I should probably let him make a choice now and again." 

"Fuck you," Dean growls, swatting at Cas's shoulder.

Castiel ducks and Dean hits the back of the seat. "Please. As soon as possible," he teases. "So you better decide on a hotel right now, putty tat."

 

**Chapter 2. Inns and Outs**

The inn is much nicer than anything Dean has ever visited in his life and probably a great deal less nice than what Cas is used to. But it's a fine inn; the place is not too overrun, the receptionist adequately disinterested when she hands them the keycard, and that is what they need right now, anonymity. And there are no cockroaches. Yeah, it's better than Dean's usual fare when it comes to accommodation.

The room is brown and beige and unassuming, nothing interesting, apart from the small fridge that is stocked with a few good beers and snacks. Dean pulls out a couple, handing one to Cas. "You sure about the bed?"

Cas bounces a little on the edge of the bed where he is perching. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... I'm... The bed. As in one king only?" Dean shakes his head. It's odd that Castiel trusts him explicitly, trusting him enough to run away with him, sharing a bed with him. "I'm an alpha." It's an explanation that doesn't explain anything, really; Dean's not buying into the traditionalist shit about how alphas can't control themselves or that omegas are horny little sex-kittens in the presence of their mate. He smiles at the silly thought. "I don't know."

Cas looks up at Dean. "You don't want to share a bed with me?" There's a tinge of sadness in his eyes.

The sadness is like a dagger to his heart. Dean wonders what it has meant to Cas, being the only omega of his kind left in the States. Appreciated, cherished, respected, sure, but also wanted for being what he is and not who he is. "You trust me, right?"

"I wouldn't have come with you if I didn't."

Dean puts the bottle on the small desk behind him before he kneels down in front of Cas. "And I trust you, Cas. I will share not only a bed with you, but also house, car, everything I own, and possibly also my last piece of apple pie, and I do not make promises about sharing pie lightly, I guarantee you."

Somehow their hands have found each other, Dean rubbing his thumbs over Cas's knuckles. 

"The moment I saw you I knew. I knew that there would never be anyone else for me but you."

It's all Dean needs to say because he knows Castiel felt it, too, that life-changing, enormous moment. 

Cas nods. "Let's go to bed."

A quick shower later, Dean is lying in bed, staring into the ceiling, looking at vague shadows; streetlight-dotted patterns that move with the wind in the trees outside. Castiel's scent is warm and alluring; it's the smell of the sea and the shore on a hot summer day, a hint of the vast ocean. It should scare Dean. Castiel is everything that Dean by default shouldn't like – werecats usually aren't fond of birds except as dinner, and Dean is afraid of flying. Dean has never seen a were-albatross in its bird shape, but if Castiel is anything like his animal kingdom counterpart, he lives for flying across oceans, diving and hunting at sea on wide wings. Dean knows little about albatrosses other than they are great fliers; deep down in a dusty corner of his brain he digs out information that he might have picked up somewhere, still remembering because flying almost seven hundred miles a day with very little effort is sort of awesome. Dean cannot wait to see Cas like that, mastering the wind and the waves, a strong and powerful omega in both his shapes. 

"Are you purring, Dean?" There's a whiff of peppermint and soap when Castiel turns, making the mattress dip.

Dean stops, mid-purr. "Yeah." He makes a small laugh. "I hadn't noticed. I guess I'm that content. You make me that content."

It's so easy. Again Dean wonders if this is how it is for everyone who meets their life-mate, this easy rapport, the way they simply fit, that nothing is rushed or pushed, like they both know that there's bond already forming between them, a bond that means that they will be together, always. Castiel slides into Dean's embrace, the scent of sea and summer overwhelming him like the smell of catnip would a cat. Dean starts purring again, rubbing up against Cas, marking him, his mouth on Cas's neck, the purring getting even louder.

"You smell like mine," Dean purrs, happy with how their scents mix to create this calming, perfect scent. It's incredible how good it feels, and they have not mated yet. Dean can't even imagine how it'll feel after, when they have finished the bonding, how complete he'll be. Dean knows he would have felt scared and repulsed by the mere thought of this merging of his being with another, had he been with anyone but Cas. Instead he feels... happy. 

"I am yours," Cas states. 

"You will be, in all ways that count," Dean murmurs, throwing a leg over Cas's, pulling him as close as humanly possible. It's not yet the right time for them to tie their bond; the mating has to wait another day. They are both tired, and Dean somehow knows for sure that Cas needs comfort and reassurance, not sex. But Dean lays claim to Cas with kisses and caresses, for once cherishing the slow progress, not rushing to the finish line. Even his desire and growing arousal are appreciated, because there is time to cherish every moment, every little step towards their mating bond and their life together.

Dean falls asleep, closely intertwined with Cas, the taste of his mouth on his lips and the scent of _mate_ in his nostrils.

*

The phone's shrill ringing makes for a rude awakening. Dean groans and turns in the bed, reluctant to leave it in favor of getting the phone. Cas murmurs something unintelligible and buries his head underneath the pillow. Dean is distracted for a moment, Cas's morning grumpiness is almost adorable. Cas groans something else, louder, but still incomprehensible.

"Yes, dear." Dean grins, getting the gist of it, or so he thinks. He grabs the phone, Sam's name blinking on the screen. He hasn't even gotten the phone close to his ear, something he's grateful for when Sam's voice hits him.

" _What the hell do you think you are doing, Dean? I have a guy here saying that he's Castiel Novak-Alighieri's brother, and that you kidnapped Castiel!_ " Sam is angry, it's not like standard Sam-bitching. He is truly angry, and maybe afraid that Dean actually did what Sam thinks he did. " _This is not like you! Where are you, and where is Castiel Novak?_ " Sam demands.

"Whoa!" Dean takes a deep breath. Usually there'd been a brother smack down for this, but Dean is somewhat sympathetic to Sam's feelings. He really did sweep Castiel off, but most certainly not against his will. Not that it's anybody's business but theirs. "I thought you knew everything about the were-albatross clan. You are supposed to know whether it's his brother or not. So, is he?" Dean goes into the offensive right away. 

" _Yeah, nice try, Dean. Castiel's brother says that Zachariah Alighieri is about to call in FBI, NSA, CIA, PETA, SPCW, the National Guard and just about anything with jurisdiction and a few without. Give Castiel back before it gets ugly._ "

Someone in the background shouts, _tell Cas that I am going to make an omelet of his firstborn if he doesn't come back_!

"Yeah, no," Dean growls, claws extending from his fingertips as he taps them against the glass of the phone. "Not gonna happen."

"Wassit?" Castiel manages from under the pillows. 

Dean buries his nose in the warm nest of comforters and pillows. Cas smells like sleep. Dean growls, annoyed with anyone who dare intrude on their mating. "Sam, and some guy who says he's your brother. They want me to hand you back."

"Pffflrt," Cas comments from the depths of their bed, and Dean couldn't agree more, not that he has any idea what Cas is trying to say. 

"You want me to hand you back?"

Cas removes the pillows. "No."

Dean picks up the phone again. "You heard him. No. Bye, Sam." Dean turns off the phone, opens it, rips out the battery and the SIM card. "That'll teach you, Sammy," he sneers, throwing the phone on the nightstand before he dives under the duvet again, feeling a strong urge to hold Cas, to keep him safe and happy. Nobody can come close to him, or take him away. Cas is _his_!

He turns to Cas again. "So, your brother? He threatened to make an omelet of our offspring."

Castiel snorts and moves around, fluffing the pillows and leaning them against the headboard. "My youngest older brother Gabriel, no doubt," he says, considerably more awake. He tilts his head questioningly. "You want offspring? We don't lay eggs, you know. It's a myth."

"Why is he talking to Sam?"

Castiel sighs and rubs his eyes. "I guess he's trying to limit the damage. Or he thought your brother was good looking. It could be either. Or both. Zachariah is terribly unpleasant when he gets angry."

"Does he really think I'd take you away without your consent?"

"It wouldn't be the first time someone tried." Cas looks sad. He takes a deep breath. "I do not think we need to worry. Gabriel isn't stupid. I would wager that he hasn't even told Zachariah that he has found Sam. Still, there's a reason for the bodyguards, and Gabriel knows that. I'm an unmated omega—"

"Not for long," Dean states firmly.

Cas sits up, like it helps him make his point. "I'm an unmated omega, and any mate of mine will gain access to one of the biggest trust funds in America."

"What? You aren't allowed to manage your own money? It's 2015!"

"The Alighieri fortune, unfortunately, was founded in the 16th century and nobody has managed to change the conditions of that fund since. In that light the fund is very generous to omegas, open-minded, even, despite the outdated idea that the omega is but an inherently promiscuous, naive being that needs to be reined in tight by being mated to an alpha." Cas shrugs, the duvet sliding down around his hips. "I am the CEO of Alighieri Inc. I manage the fund, but as an omega I have no access to it because of an ancient instrument of foundation that says that whatever I am entitled to through the fund, I will only get it if my mate allows it." Castiel sighs. "I have earned more money as a CEO than I know what to do with; the fund means nothing to me. To greedy suitors, on the other hand..."

Dean can see how it must look, seen from Castiel's brothers' side of things. "Awesome. I guess it wasn't that clever to ask you to run away with me, then." He lies down next to Cas, leaning against the headboard. He pats his own chest. "Get over here, omega," he teases, Sam and the Alighieri fortune forgotten in an instant at the sight of Castiel's naked chest. "And let's discuss how I can best have my gold-digging way with you. You know, hot, but poor boytoy, rich corporate hotshot. They could make a movie out of it."

Cas snorts and sends Dean a mock glare. "Don't press your luck, kitty." But he shuffles closer, his head on Dean's chest. Dean caresses Cas's back, fingertips teasing over his skin. Cas sighs again, this time from pleasure.

"Do you want to go back, Cas?" Dean knows what he's asking: has Cas regretted that he agreed to go Vegas? Has he regretted that he promised himself to Dean?

"We mate once, and for life," Cas says. "It's you or no one. No, I do not want to go back. It would rip my heart out, and I don't know how I could survive without it. Or without you."

Dean lets out a deep sigh, realizing that he'd held his breath the entire time. Not one for big declarations, he nods. "Me too, Cas." He gives in to the flood of emotions, threatening to overwhelm him. Dean has never in his life felt like this, and knowing that he _will_ get his mate makes him happier than he has ever been. "I'll sign anything you want, give away any rights to anything, as long as I have you."

Cas's lips are soft and pliant under his, and Cas moves with him as Dean turn them, Cas on his back, Dean sliding between his legs. Cas's scent is heady and clear, unlike anything Dean has smelled before, the scent a mix of everything Dean likes. Maybe that's how it is when mates are right for each other. Dean doesn't get time to think it over, for Cas moans under him, his cock hard against Dean's own growing erection.

The urge to take and own rises like a flash flood in Dean. "Cas," he groans, again rubbing up against him. "Please?"

"Tell me," Castiel demands. "Right now."

God, Dean is so utterly omega-whipped, and he frigging loves it, doing Castiel's bidding, fulfilling his every whim, executing every order to Castiel's satisfaction. "And they say that romance is dead." Dean bends down to kiss Castiel on the neck, nibbling at the skin, teasing him with little, light bites. "My bossy omega."

"I'm sure you can find one who doesn't employ more than five thousand employees, and therefore will be more to your liking," Cas manages, a few deep moans belying the suggestion. "Tell me."

"I want you as my mate. You have no idea how much I want to knot you and bite you." Dean's voice is broken up in fragile little pieces, separated by shivering moans. He has never in his life wanted anything or anyone like he wants Cas. "Please, let me! If I can't have you, I don't want anyone."

"Yes," Cas gasps, forgetting how to speak as Dean traps his cock between their bodies. "Uh, mm. Yes." Cas closes his eyes, moaning loudly, his body tense. His scent is overwhelming Dean, and he cannot stop himself from licking Cas's skin, tasting sweat on it. Dean slides a hand up Cas's thigh, moving a little to one side to give himself room to pleasure Cas. Light fingers over Cas's dick makes him whimper and moan again, and he spreads his thighs wider. 

"Are you sure?" Dean asks, as if there is much to misunderstand. Still, like Cas, Dean wants to hear the words.

"Your knot." Cas blushes and it makes him look innocent and young, but his arousal isn't wavering. "I want you to knot me. I want you to mate with me." Cas's eyes turn into steel, the sweet innocence gone. "Now, Dean. I want to be certain that nobody forces us to part."

"At your service, Your Majesty," Dean murmurs, his mouth against Cas's, his fingers slipping into Cas's slick hole. Dean wants to bury his tongue in it, taste it, but Cas sure knows what he wants and Dean's not going to deny him anything. "Knot you, mate you and claim you as mine. I can do that."

Cas's tense muscles relax, and he sinks back into the pillows, the insistent, demanding Cas gone. With his legs around Dean's hips, his sudden pliancy is an open invitation. With Cas's consent, Dean doesn't waste any time. It's not that he isn't going to make tender love to Cas at some point, probably right after they are done mating, but right now his instincts are tearing at him, undermining any other thoughts than _mate, take, claim, breed_. Thank God that Castiel isn't in heat because Dean is not ready for kittens or fledglings, not yet. Except... 

Dean moans at the idea, Cas heavy with his children, his belly full and round. _His_ kittens. Okay, so maybe he's a little more ready than he thought. 

A gentle hand is pressed between them, Cas guiding Dean into his tight channel. It's smooth and hot, enough slick to make it easy. But Dean goes slow, allowing Cas to adjust. "Have you... Mmh. Have you been knotted.... before?" Dean gets out, biting his lip to focus, at least a little. He should have asked Cas before they ended up here, he realizes, even in the haze of lust. He slides in and out, calm, at least, as long as he can keep his arousal under control. He can't hurt Cas or let himself be carried away, although there is nothing he'd rather do than fuck Cas into oblivion, knotting him and put his kittens into his belly.

"I... no."

Dean stops. "And... sex? Have you, erm—"

"Yes. Of course I have. I'm an omega, not a monk." Cas makes another small sigh, thrusting his hips up to get Dean to move again. "Come on, Dean, I'm not made of glass."

Dean doesn't think so, but if Cas hasn't— 

"Fuck!" Dean lands on his back, bouncing on the mattress, Cas on top of him, flipped over like he is nothing to Cas to manhandle. "What are you doing?" he groans, surprised into stupidity.

"Taking a mate," Cas says, and sinks down on Dean's dick, as far as he can, the rim of his hole pressing on Dean's swelling knot. "Someone here needs to show some determination."

"I'll give you determination," growls Dean and grabs Castiel's hips, thrusting up hard, hard enough to get further inside, his knot slipping past the rim and in deep.

"Oh _yes_ ," Castiel sighs. "Don't... oh, don't stop!" His eyes are closed, mouth open, lips wet and red as he breathes slowly, adjusting to the intrusion. "Oh. That's. Oh."

Dean pulls out a little, fucking into Cas fast, but not deep enough to catch. He wants Cas with him, wants to give him pleasure, wants to make their mating good for him. Cas takes it, rotating his hips, riding Dean fast and hard, neither shy, nor holding back. He whimpers as Dean angles himself perfectly, his expression enraptured.

"Good?" Dean wraps his arm around Cas's waist, sitting up so he can place kisses on Cas's chest. 

"Y-yes." Cas's breathing is turning into small, harsh pants. "It's very—"

Dean thrusts in again, cutting their conversation off with pleasure. Cas wraps his arms around his neck, one hand in Dean's hair, fingers tense. Dean gets up on his knees, fighting the soft bed, turning them over so he has Cas on his back, making Cas cry out as he is thrown down, Dean on top of him, in him, before he can react. Again, the instinctual need to take and possess wells up inside Dean, he shivers from lust. He runs his tongue over his canines, realizing that they are out, sharp and pointy, ready to penetrate his mate's skin, binding them together in an unbreakable bond. " _Mate_ ," Dean lets out, purring, kneading Cas's sides, claws out.

It might have hurt but Cas merely moans, the need evident as he tightens around Dean's cock. "Yes."

This time Dean does not hold back. Cas clings to him as he thrusts in, deep and hard, opening Cas to a knot for the first time. Dean purrs even louder, his brow resting against Cas's, sweaty and hot already. Swelling fast, Dean's come begins to pulse into Cas, making the bed smell of their combined juices. It's perfect, the scent of mating and bonding, of sweat and soap and semen, and of Cas's own scent, one that Dean already loves so much because it smells of desire and completion.

Another thrust and another, hard, deep, and Cas is crying out, his eyes closed, pulling Dean closer, as if he cannot get enough, can't get it hard enough. He has no more words, but that's fine, because Dean ran out of them too. Bodies intertwined, they move towards the final step of their mating. The world becomes slow, like time has turned molasses-sweet and heavy. Deep inside Cas, Dean lies with closed eyes, his knot swollen so he can't move much, but he does his best, making it good for Cas with strokes and kisses, knot rubbing Cas's prostate with every restrained thrust. Cas's eyes are still closed, his body limp from pleasure that he cannot escape, not when they are tied together like this. 

"I want to fill you with my kittens," Dean murmurs, high on endorphins. "Want to mate you now."

Cas makes a mewl and stretches his neck to accommodate Dean. He looks up at Dean, blue eyes dazed as he runs his hands down Dean's back, feather-soft, legs tightly locked around Dean's hips. "I'd like that," Cas sighs.

Dean spreads his kisses across Castiel's neck, deciding on the spot where shoulder meets neck, just where it can be seen when Cas wears a t-shirt, but not when he's dressed in shirt and tie. Cas can flaunt it if he wants to, but Dean doesn't want to force him. It's enough to know that Cas bears his mark, that his scent will change. No matter where the mating bite is put, Castiel is his, his, his!

Dean bites down, and Cas comes again, crying and moaning, coming apart entirely as they finally bond, finally become mates. Kissing the wound, Dean helps Cas on his side, still locked with him. Cas is breathing heavily, but his eyes are open, barely. Dean's hovering on the upstream of ecstasy, the long, drawn out orgasm going on and on as Dean fills Cas with come. Cas is with him, exchanging kisses and moans until the pleasure dies down, turning into a pleasant throbbing in Dean's sore body. 

"Didn't think I'd feel so damned content," Dean says. "Sated."

"It's perfect," Castiel agrees, still breathless. He snuggles up to Dean, because there is nowhere else he can move. He makes a pleased, content moan. "My alpha."

"Yeah," Dean agrees, sure that it is precisely how it's gonna be: he might be the alpha, but Cas... oh, he is all Cas's. "All yours, and you know it." He points to a spot on his neck. "Your turn, tweety. I want my bite here, where everybody can see it. I want them to see that I am yours."

Castiel's pleased expression says it all.

*

Dean shuts the door to the hotel room behind them, duffel in one hand, when it hits him. It's not that he hasn't reveled in the knowledge all night, but this is _it_ , the part where he steps outside the small nest of pleasure and happiness they created together and into the real world – the world where Dean Winchester is now Castiel Novak-Alighieri's mate and alpha. It's a very strange world, not merely because Dean now is a mated were, soon to become a married man as well. No, it's a strange world because Dean is in love. It's a strange world because Dean, apparently, is rich, not that he wants to have anything to do with Cas's money. And then there's the problem with the kidnapping that needs to be solved, and Dean sure hopes it'll be without blood-shedding. But if the Alighieri clan insists, Dean's willing. It's not going to be Cas's or his blood, though, he'll make sure of it. Caught up in thoughts about the less pleasant aftermath of their mating, Dean takes a few steps down the corridor, actually forgetting his mate.

"Dean, wait."

Dean laughs, mostly of himself. "Sorry, tweety, I was thinking about us."

Cas smiles as he turns, and he takes a step forward, sliding his hand into Dean's. "Something good?"

"Never cared for PDAs before," Dean admits, "but now?" He squeezes Cas's hand, pulling him with him as he starts walking down the corridor to the stairs. 

"Now?" Cas asks, the frigging winged bastard that he is. Cas knows very well that it's different now.

Dean laughs. "You want to hear me say it."

"Of course." Cas's smile is so damned smug that Dean stops on the top of the stairs to kiss Castiel breathless. It takes a minute or two, before Dean is satisfied with the way Cas is hanging on to him, weak at the knees as he can barely stand when Dean releases him. "You are my mate, are you not? You are supposed to tell me."

"I want the whole world to know that you're mine, Cas." Cas laughs, stroking Dean's cheek, looking at him, head cocked, as if he thinks he's a little foolish. "What is it?"

"You don't read any magazines? Or news on the Internet?"

"Sometimes, yeah. Why?" The question is out before Dean's brain catches up. Castiel Novak in the news. Castiel Novak in the gossip rags, in magazines like Business and Fortune, in TIME, on CNN, in the headlines. The Alighieri clan, all of it, all over. "Fuck."

"I'll ask Gabriel to find you a publicist. You don't have to say anything to anyone if you don't want to."

Now Dean really feels like the cross-breed trailer-born tree trash outsider he is. He's not ashamed of himself; it's that everybody else thought he should be, and that's not gonna happen anytime soon. 

"A publicist? I thought you wanted us out of the limelight? At least for now"

"Their job would be to keep you out of the press too."

"You ashamed of me? I mean... It's not that I am worth much. I have thirty dollars to my name, a forty year old car, and my own bedroom at my uncle's scrap yard. Not really a proper place for a CEO. I can see why you'd..." Dean sighs. His usual confident attitude isn't enough to cover up that doesn't want Cas to cover up that they have mated.

Castiel raises an eyebrow. "Worth? Dean, the moment I decided to mate outside my species, do you have any ideas how many options that got me?"

"More than two?"

"More than..." Cas pauses. "Probably every unmated alpha in the States who didn't care for love. As I said, the Alighieri fortune is attractive to a lot of people."

"You're saying that all alphas are for sale?" Dean swats Cas on the shoulder. "Or that you have nothing to offer other than money?"

Cas sends him a glare and a raised eyebrow as reply.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, Dean. I know that you did not take me for my money, and I did not take you because I didn't have any other options, I simply did not want any of them. I wanted you. Since we have that cleared up, I think you should consider that the rest of the world might not see it that way, hence the publicist."

"Can't have the cross-breed bastard speaking in public?" Dean can't stop himself. He knows that Cas is right, but other people's prejudice should not come between the two of them.

"I'm more worried that you're going to kill somebody." Castiel laughs. "I'm not worried about what you'd say or do, though. _I_ like the way you growled at Zachariah. Maybe I'm a little worried, too, that I liked it too much. I do not wish to... enable violence. But if you'd prefer it that way, I'll have PR make a press release, stating that I am mated to you, underlining for the benefit of the less intelligent alphas out there that I am taken."

Cas's admission makes Dean melt. He slips his arm around Cas's waist as they walk down the stairs. Maybe Cas is right. Dean knows what the press can be like, and maybe Cas has a point. There's going to be exposure, and probably more than enough of it. "As if I'd need a press release. You're mine, and no publicist is going to make me stop underlining that point to anyone who cares to listen and especially those who don't."

"It's a federal crime to separate bonded mates, Dean."

"I hope your brothers aren't as stupid as to try."

Cas is quiet a bit too long. "Michael and Lucifer might need a reminder. Raphael is a follower; he does what the winning side does. Zachariah is too concerned about his image to make more than noise, although he might be the one who sounds the loudest. Gabriel..."

"He's the brother who's bothering my brother, right?"

"He bothers everybody. But he's harmless. Most of the time."

"Reassuring, baby, reassuring. He has my brother."

"Your brother is six-feet-something, a wolf, and my brother is the size of a puppy."

"He sure barks like one. Little pups have sharp teeth and he's still an alpha."

"There's that. But I'm sure your brother can manage. Big wolves have teeth and your brother is still an alpha."

"Yeah, see where that got me," Dean says. "Entirely at the beck and call of my omega. Not that I mind."

"You are not at my beck and call," Castiel insists, but there is a glint in his eyes that says otherwise.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart. As long as you believe it, it's all good, but I know better. You have me wrapped around your little finger."

"Perhaps," Castiel says. "But you like it."

Dean sees no point in denying it.

*

The lobby is quiet; it's early, still. There's a young guy behind the reception desk, entirely disinterested in them, apart from the obvious: check-out, payment, polite goodbye. There's a TV on in the back, no sound. Castiel stares at it as Dean hands over a credit card that doesn't have his name on it. It's not like he had prepared for a mate and a night at a nice inn. He probably should have paid in cash, but he doesn't have the money for a room like this, so credit card fraud it is, like always. There's the plus that the card can't be traced to Cas.

Cas elbows him in the ribs, hard. Dean is about to growl something slightly rude when he sees Castiel's face. "Baby?"

Cas makes an almost invisible nod in the direction of the TV. There's a picture of Castiel on the screen behind the news anchor, and the headline at the bottom of the TV screen screams, _Alighieri Inc. CEO missing. Has he been kidnapped?_.

"Zachariah is lying to the police. It is revenge because I refused him. I did not think he'd be that petty." Castiel looks angry, and his whisper sounds more like a hiss than actual speech. "He has connections. We should be careful. I do not want to stop and let him have the satisfaction."

"So Sam didn't get to play peace-maker," Dean whispers. "This ain't good." He takes Castiel's hand again, pulling at him. "Let's get the fuck outta here before they look at you twice, or at the TV," he says, voice low. "If this is going federal, we're keeping a very low profile from now on. Unless you want to—"

"No, Dean. We are leaving. Together. I will not let Zachariah win."

Castiel hides behind a pillar as Dean checks them out, taking a few long strides to keep up as soon as they are out the front door. Baby is right in front of them, and Dean throws the duffel into the backseat. He can't get away fast enough. Apart from the fake credit card, they have done nothing wrong. In the light of the alleged kidnapping, that sure is great, since it won't lead anywhere—but Dean still wants them mated and married before anyone can interfere. Castiel obviously wants the same, he is just as eager to get away before that asshole Zach ruins their improvised honeymoon.

Sliding into the passenger seat, Castiel sighs. "I am not willing to deal with my brothers or the press yet. Can we please go, Dean?"

Dean's not sure whether the press or the family is the worse option. He prefers no options at all, except the one they've already decided on. "Where to? Vegas all the way?" Dean revs the engine and sends Baby forward with a growl.

"Route 80 to Denver. I have a cabin just outside Aspen. We stay there tonight."

Of course Cas has a cabin in Aspen. Dean snorts at the thought. He'd probably not be able to buy as much as a trailer in close proximity of Aspen. He read once that the cheapest place in Aspen cost half a million. For a trailer park lot. "Why in Aspen? I thought you and your feathered family liked the ocean."

The small inn disappears behind them as Baby spins her wheels and falls into a steady cruising speed. Dean feels lighter, at ease. It's Baby, the Interstate 80, and Cas. It's like life should be. He reaches for Cas, putting his hand on his thigh, letting it stay there, a mark of his ownership. 

"I like the upwind in the mountains," Cas explains. "There are a few small lakes, but fishing is poor. But the wind, Dean. Imagine hovering on it for hours, with the sun above you, the snow covering the land. Everything is cold and crisp and clean. I could fly like that for days, blue sky, freedom. Have you ever—"

"If I was meant to fly, I'd have wings," Dean states firmly. "I prefer to drive. But each to their own."

"You..." Cas looks at him, head cocked, eyes curious. "My mate is afraid of flying." Castiel makes a face as if he's hiding a smile, and Dean thinks he hears a chuckle. "I have mated with an aviophobe!"

"Are you _laughing_ at me? You, you..." Dean splutters indignantly. "You... _canary_!"

"Aw, putty tat," Cas purrs, rubbing Dean's cheek where his whiskers would be if he'd changed into his were-form. "You can stay on the ground with the mice."

"Very funny, Cas." Dean bites Cas's finger gently, without his pointy canines it's merely playful, not serious. "We Bengals like to play with our prey."

"If you can catch it."

"We'll test that later, tweety pie."

"I didn't mean to tease you. Phobias are serious," Cas says. "I'm sorry."

"I can, if I have to," Dean admits. He glances at Cas. "Go on a plane, I mean. For you, I'd do it." It's not like Dean wants to sprout wings and fly with the albatrosses, or let Castiel carry him. He'd take a flight to wherever Cas wants him, but in a decent aero plane, like normal people. "Please, say you don't want me to do that."

"Gabriel has a hang glider."

"No."

"Hot air balloon?"

"No, Cas."

"Parachute?"

"No!"

"Company jet? Champagne? Or beer?"

Dean nods. That sounds like it could be pleasant, bar the mortal danger and the anxiety. He isn't even surprised that Alighieri Inc. has a jet. Of course they do. "Deal. If I can get Xanax too."

"I'll hold your hand. Although I have to use them both some of the time. To fly the machine, I mean."

" _You_ are going to fly it?"

"You promised you'd fly with me. Of course I'm going to fly it. I won't let you come to any harm. Do you think anyone in the entire air force, any pilot out there knows more about flying than I?"

Dean hesitates, pursing his lips. "You have a certificate?"

"Dean, nobody would let me take off without it. Apart from time spent on my own wings, I got thousands of hours in a real plane. Albatrosses have frequent flier miles that cannot be beaten by human pilots."

"Okay. I trust you."

"And I you."

"You wouldn't be my mate if you didn't."

"Exactly." Cas leans in and presses a kiss to Dean's cheek. "I trust you to make me happy."

 

**Chapter 3. A Cabin in the Woods**

The cabin in Aspen turns out to be... different. Yes, it has a fireplace, and yes, it's made of wood. Apart from that—not counting the eight _other_ fireplaces—the 8,000 square feet of architect-designed walls and luxury interior have very little in common with any other cabin that Dean has ever seen. 

Cas is trying to get a fire going as Dean walks down the impressive curved stairs. The living room is gigantic, yet still cozy, with its golden wooden walls and the deep rugs and plush sofas. Still trying to wrap his mind around the exorbitant standard of the master bedroom, the cabin really makes it clear to Dean exactly how rich Castiel is. What Castiel calls a cabin, other people, ordinary people, would call a mansion, and not a McMansion at that; no, it's perfect, from the way it fits on the huge piece of land to the way it is decorated with exquisite modern paintings. Not that Dean has any interest in interior design, but he recognizes taste when he sees it, good taste. Plus, he recognizes the names on some of the paintings. He's not a Neanderthal. He reads. And looks at pictures that are not Japanese cartoon porn.

"Is this how we're going to live?" Dean asks, knowing that it's his responsibility to care for Cas, not the other way around. "You know, I don't even have a job. Don't think I'm going to be able to pay the taxes on this dump."

"I don't live here, Dean." Castiel straightens up, a small flame dancing in the fireplace. The scent of burning timber spreads in the room. "I have a penthouse in Chicago." He smiles. "I'll go anywhere with you, anywhere you want."

"Sam and me, we live with our uncle in Sioux Falls. Singer Salvage Yard. I don't think..." Dean waves with a hand, indicating the surroundings. "We didn't think this through. The difference between—"

Castiel's smile fades. "Are you having regrets?"

Dean realizes what he sounds like, and he's down the stairs and at Cas's side in a second. He pulls Castiel close. "Never. I... Cas..." Dean sighs, feeling all weak for his mate. "No matter what happens I am never going to regret that I mated you. I told you, and I'll tell you again, Cas: the moment I saw you, there was no one else for me, and there will never be. You're right for me, although I'm not sure the opposite is true."

"Because you don't have much, is that it? Why would that matter, Dean?"

"I don't know." Dean sighs and slumps down in the sofa in front of the fireplace. He's tired after a long day's drive, but not hungry, still full from drive-thru burgers and vending machine candy. Castiel sits down next to him, instantly moving closer, into Dean's arms. 

"Do you think I care?" Castiel asks, cuddling up, head on Dean's shoulder.

Dean makes another sigh, more content. "No, I don't. You are not like that."

"Then why worry about it? Neither the public, nor my brothers or my former flight alpha have a say in how I want to live. Well, Zachariah sort of has since he is still the flight alpha and I am still an albatross. But since I am now mated to you, your decisions take precedence. I shall join your glaring if you want that, and he has no say in the matter."

"So you really don't care that I'm the most useless alpha in the history of werekind?"

"You are _not_ useless, Dean!" Cas's voice is firm with a tinge of annoyance. "Do not fall into the trap of believing what ignorant weres might say. It has been a long time since omegas were useless little toys and alphas were stupid bulls."

"Some are still stupid bulls," Dean insists.

"Only in India, and the were-cow is far from stupid. The were-cow, or bull, is said to be a wise, noble and friendly creature."

"Unlike the were-albatross. And that's not what I meant."

"Touché." Castiel laughs and reaches up to caress Dean's cheek. "I suppose we are a confrontational lot. And you haven't even met Lucifer and Michael yet."

"Or Gabriel."

"Or Gabriel. But I think your brother has that under control."

"Yeah, right." Dean recalls Gabriel's confident, bossy attitude in the phone. "Which reminds me..." He pulls his phone out of his pocket. "I should probably talk to Sam. I was a little abrupt. To say it mildly."

Cas snags a plaid that is casually thrown across the back of the sofa before he moves even closer, pulling the plaid over them like he wants to build a defense against the rest of the world. "And I should explain to Gabriel and tell him to call off the hounds. I want to go to Vegas tomorrow, and I do not want any interferences when I claim my mate again."

"And here I thought I was doing the claiming." Dean has to kiss Castiel, because his bossy omega is perfect, and who _cares_ that he's rich and probably will end up providing a home for them? They are mates and that is enough. What they do with their lives is nobody's business but their own.

Except Dean's the only one to think so. He turns the phone on, and it starts a litany of bleeps and ringing and messages popping in and up on the screen. "Erm," he begins, pulling Castiel closer, like it could help him keep fun with the family at bay. "Oops."

"I can still throw it out the window," Cas offers and points at the phone. "We are going to Las Vegas."

"Okay, Cas, okay!" Dean surrenders, and he suspects that it's a state that he is going to get used to. He cannot deny Cas anything. He's so damned besotted that he's embarrassing himself. Not that he cares, not when Cas's lips are close and red and inviting and _there_. He shuts the phone off again. It's late anyway, and they shouldn't wake people up; with that number of calls and messages, Sam probably has gone through his entire repertoire of bitching levels and bitchfaces, from the simple, to varieties that express seven different shades of deeply annoyed. Dean can do without; Cas is infinitely more alluring than an angry Sam.

Dean gives up. There is nothing more alluring than Cas, so Sam has to wait. That'll serve him for being such a jerk.

For some time, nothing else exists in the world than Cas. Kissing Cas is quickly becoming Dean's favorite pastime, almost better than mating, not that they aren't brilliant combined, mating and kissing. But the kisses... Castiel's lips move under his, pliant and soft, and Dean sighs, sharing his breath with Cas who makes little content sighs that mix with Dean's deep purr. It's so good when Cas smells like his, tastes so good. Cas is Dean's catnip; there is nothing like Cas, nothing as good. If he'd ever known that finding his mate would be like this, he'd never have had commitment issues in the first place. Then again, there is only one Cas. Dean is sure that he was meant to find Cas. Or that Cas was meant to find him. Dean purrs even louder. 

"I feel so hot," Cas groans into Dean's mouth. "Help me." He slips out under Dean, pulling his own tie off, at the same time trying to unbutton his shirt. "Maybe I put on too much wood?"

The fire sure is blazing and the huge living room is warm. Maybe Cas runs hot, just in general. Dean helps him with the shirt, because who'd say no to a naked Cas? Dean sure wouldn't. As not to let Cas be naked all by himself, Dean strips, too, fast, to feel Cas against him, warm skin and soft lips. 

"I need you," Dean murmurs in Cas's ear. It doesn't matter they are tired; the perfection of being with Castiel is invigorating. Breathing in deeply, Dean takes in Cas's scent, this night it's like it has a tinge of ripe fruits and sweetness that it didn't have before, and it makes Cas even more attractive. "You smell so good."

Cas is on with the program, for his warm hand is around Dean's dick, teasing and squeezing. Dean is fully hard in seconds; Cas mere presence is enough to get him going. Dean places a row of kisses down Castiel's neck, kissing the mating bite he left there yesterday, across his shoulder to his chest. Dean licks his lips and smiles, Cas's chest really needing a thorough treatment. Pushing Cas down on his back, eliciting a sigh from Cas, Dean goes to town sucking at Cas's nipples until they are pink and hard and Cas is a mess.

"You wanna ride me again?" Dean asks, wanting to let Castiel have whatever he wants. He brushes his fingers over Cas's skin, down to his hips. Dean grips them hard, making Cas groan. "Wanna ride my knot, baby?" The mere idea makes Dean faint from arousal. 

"I'm..." Cas is breathing hard, his dick erect and ready, slick dripping from his hole already, the scent of it overwhelming Dean, making him want to bury his face between Cas's legs, licking him dry. It's incredible how they are so attuned to each other, like the arousal of one heightens the arousal of the other. "From behind. I want it from behind." Cas shuffles around in the sofa, turning under Dean, hands on the arm rest, ass in the air, presenting the most alluring picture to Dean. 

Dean gasps at the sight, all his instincts flaring madly; it feels like his body is on fire, flames dancing. "You are _mine_ ," he growls, losing it. "I'm gonna breed you, Cas; I can't wait until you're in heat, so I can put my child in you." He slides his hands down Cas's back, down his ass cheeks, spreading them to study Cas's inviting opening, pink and wet.

"Yes, Dean," Cas hisses, "I want that, I want... I want—" Cas reaches back, his hand over Dean's, fingers entwined as Cas pushes Dean's fingers inside himself. "I want this."

Of course Dean gives it to him, like he's going to give Cas everything else he asks for. With his knot buried deep in Cas's ass, Dean forgets himself to give Castiel pleasure, everything he asks for, kisses, caresses, little bites on the neck, stating his claim over and over, until Cas mewls like a cat, making Dean even more satisfied. Thrusting into his mate, Dean loves every moment of it, making love to Cas, loving him, body and soul until they are both one, until there is no saying where one begins and the other ends. They are one.

Finally, Cas is whimpering, sobbing out his orgasm in Dean's arms, the only thing holding him up is Dean's arm around his waist. Cas's head is thrown back in ecstasy, his face flushed and his hands clutching at the sofa's soft cushions; mouth open and lips wet from Dean's kisses. Dean shivers as another wave of pleasure shoots through him. If he could keep this feeling, this image in his mind forever... It might be the happiest moment in Dean's life. He is deeply in love and lust with his mate, his perfect, wonderful omega. Dean is a man of few words when it comes to love, although Cas even seems to be a remedy for that, Dean having talked more about feelings in two days than he has done in his entire life. He wants to show Cas how much he adores him, wants to worship him with touches and kisses as he guides Cas toward another orgasm.

"Dean, mate, oh." Cas is squirming and sighing, squeezing Dean's knot, forcing yet another gush of come out of Dean, the cycle starting over again. In his haze, Dean cannot help but appreciate the perfection of it, how well they fit together, body and mind, like it was always meant to be, that Cas was there, always, made for him only. It was merely a question of finding him. It's like flying, Dean's sure, like the ground has disappeared, not knowing how far down there is. It should frighten him, afraid as he is of aviation, but doesn't. It's exciting. It's exciting, from the first kiss to the orgasm that's approaching, Dean's knot catching, his semen pumping into Cas, filling him. Cas's helpless moans are filling Dean, too, with a deep satisfaction.

Only when Castiel is fully sated, too far gone to ask for more, Dean stops. His knot has deflated, and he's sure that if Cas wanted more, he'd have to use fingers and tongue. Which, now that Dean thinks about it, sounds absolutely perfect. Stroking Cas gently, light touches to his chest, hips, thighs, Dean pulls out, not caring that they are ruining the sofa. He gets on his knees behind Cas, the scent of their combined slick and semen so very alluring. He leans down, tryingly licking Cas's open hole with the tip of his tongue.

The sound that Cas makes is only an encouragement. Dean dips in, tongue deep in Cas, the taste of taboo and pleasure is... mmhm. Dean has to press the heel of his hand against his cock. Cas can't take any more, and Dean doesn't want him to do anything he doesn't want, just to let Dean indulge.

"How does it feel?" Dean asks, getting back to licking Cas clean of their juices.

"Soft," Cas moans, pushing back against Dean's face, not hiding that he enjoys it. "Good. Perfect."

Dean continues licking Cas, loving his taste, the taste of both of them. It would be arousing if they weren't both entirely fucked out. Now it's pleasant, intimate, and Dean swears that he's going to lick Cas out, giving him all the orgasms he wants with tongue and fingers before he fucks him full again. Cas is barely conscious when Dean is done. He is resting limply on his arms, eyes closed. Dean guides him down on his back, covering them both with the soft plaid. There are no more complaints about the fire being too hot. Mostly there is Cas, falling asleep in Dean's arms. Cas only wakes briefly, whispering Dean's name lovingly when Dean picks him up and carries him upstairs to bed. 

Yeah, it's perfect. Perfect.

*

Dean isn't sure how long he has slept. He wakes up in the opulent room, smooth silk against his back and soft down comforters covering him. Cas's hand is resting on his chest, ownership underlined by the mere touch of a hand. Outside the moon hangs, open-mouthed and round, calling to Dean with all it's silver allure. Dean makes a low purr and meows, stretching and yawning. He _needs_ to change, almost as much as he needs Cas. It'd be so good to run under the moon, climb trees and mark the land with his mark, ensuring that everybody knows that this is his territory, and that Cas is his mate. Dean wants to get rid of the tension of being on the run, sort of; he did after all abduct his mate, at least in the eyes of the public. 

"Dean?" Cas yawns and turns on his back, his face bathed in the moonlight. "You want to change?"

Dean sighs happily. Of course Cas would understand immediately. "Yeah, I'd like that. You?"

"M-hm. I'd like to stretch my wings." Cas sits up, the comforter pooling around his naked body. "Just an hour or two. There's a lake to the west a few miles out."

"Trees?" It's a stupid question. The view from the cabin is nothing but spruce, fir and aspen. Of course there are trees.

"There's a trail. A meadow at the edge of the crater; the lake isn't very big, but big enough to have some fish. You want to hunt too?"

"If there are trees, there are things to hunt," Dean says. Mice, birds, it's fine. He'd even go fish; in his Bengal cat form he appreciates water, just like his animal counterpart. "You?"

"A fish or two, I think." Cas looks up at him through heavy eyelashes, shy.

Dean smiles. They suit each other so well, and yet their were forms could not be more different. Except they apparently share a love of fishing. "I'd like to see that."

"You're not... because I'm not a cat?"

Dean looks at Castiel with a frown. He doesn't understand.

"Appalled." Cas's face is shrouded in shadows, but Dean sees it. He looks ashamed. "My brothers always told me I could never be with a were who wasn't... like me. I wondered if there was something wrong with me, that I didn't care which form my lovers were in. I wondered if it was like that with..."

Oh God. Dean reaches for Cas's hand. "Cas, my mom was a Bengal, my dad a wolf. Okay, wolves don't have wings, but my parents were as different as two weres could possibly be and yet they broke both pack law and glaring law when they fell in love and mated. When she died, it drove my dad into drinking, always chasing her ghost in some way or another. He never stopped loving her." Stroking Cas's hand, Dean makes a frustrated sigh. "Have you no idea how beautiful you are to me? How perfect? Wings, eight legs, tentacles, I don't care. You are my mate, and I could never feel anything but desire and love for you. Cas, it has been a long time since the law forbade us to mate with other weres. Only stupid traditionalists are bothered by it, and I sure ain't one."

"Traditionalists like Zachariah and Michael."

Dean puts a finger on Cas's mouth. "Don't. I don't care. If those who mooks are bothering you, I'm going Al Qaeda on their asses. Don't let their bullshit get to you, tweety. I could just as well ask you if you'd be appalled because I have a tail and whiskers. Now, do you?"

"Don't be stupid, Dean."

"See? Why would I think differently?"

Cas looks adorable when he's blushing.

"So let's get out of here, tweety bird, before I decide it's a better idea to fuck you silly."

*

The forest is dark and cold, the scents dull in the low temperatures. Dean shivers. He buries his feet deep in the needles under the pines; they are more pleasant than the light dusting of snow that covers everything else. Cas, similarly naked, is shaking, nose icy as he kisses Dean a final time. "Follow the trail," Cas says. "I'll look for you."

Then Cas changes, one fluent movement and a big black and white bird is in his stead. Cas spreads his wings and Dean takes a step back; he hadn't really thought that Cas would be so... amazing. 

"It's impressive," Dean says, watching as Cas stretches and flaps the enormous wings. 

Cas makes a shrill cry and makes a few intricate steps, claps his bill loudly, performing a few more dance steps in Dean's direction.

"Okay, okay!" Dean wonders what Cas is doing, until he realizes that it might be some kind of mating ritual. Of course they can't mate in their were forms, but maybe Cas needs to do this, just like Dean wants to mark and scratch at the trees, telling everybody around them that they are mates. "Hold on, tweety." Dean crouches, changing into his cat form in a fluent, smooth movement. He sneezes as a snowflake lands on his nose; he bounces and paws at it. It feels good to have changed. Dean begins to purr again, content with himself and his beautiful, and frankly impressive omega. Dean takes a few steps towards Cas, hesitating for a moment, wanting to be sure that Cas is okay with it. Cas makes that dark braying sound again, low, and dances another series of complicated steps.

Dean likes his cat shape, but right there and then he wishes that he could smile. Instead he slithers around Cas, rubbing against him, something that makes Cas stop and put his head against Dean's, headbutting him like a cat would. So they do have some language in common. Dean understands. For a little while cat and bird learn each other's scent and signs, Dean so pleased with their attempt at communication that his loud purring makes his chest hurt. 

Or maybe it's just that his heart can't hold all the love he has for his mate. 

Such as he is, Cas's albatross is beautiful, from the long lines of the black-speckled wings to the bright orange beak and the kohl-lined eyes. Cas is not pretty, not like he is when he is in his human body, but every line of his bird form speaks of endurance and function, and Dean finds him perfect, even the rotund form of his bird body. 

Cas makes a few more bill-clapping sounds before he stretches his wings again, shaking them. Then he brays, runs clumsily along the path and takes off, a few whips with the huge wings, before he is soaring up on the mountain's upwind, a silver-white swordblade, cutting the wind into pieces. Dean meows, jumps up on the nearest fir branch, climbing the tree only as swift as an agile cat can do it. He finds a good branch where he can sit, following Cas with his eyes until Cas is but a narrow line in the horizon. Only then does Dean descend, running full speed towards the mountain ridge, stopping only to scratch a few trees and mark them, telling everybody who cares to listen that this land belongs to Dean and his mate.

Dean is so happy he could cry.

He doesn't, though. Instead he runs through the dark, enjoying the whisper of the trees and the rustle of mice in the crisp snow. He pounces a few time, paws deep in the snow, mostly for the fun of it; the mice are unscathed, if closer to a nervous breakdown than they were before. Dean is not hungry, and he never kills without purpose. He is not cruel. He takes the form of a cat, but he isn't one, just like Castiel isn't an albatross. He only shares the form and some of their traits.

The freedom of running and the quiet of the snow-clad forest leaves Dean time to think, his mind relaxed, his thoughts closer to the innocent mind of his cat form. The last two days have been...insane. Taking a mate like that—emphasis on _take_ —is possibly the most stupid thing Dean has ever done, and the wisest. How he got the courage to run away with Cas like they did is still somewhat baffling. Not that Dean lacks courage, but he sure lacked it in connection with anything that could be seen as commitment.

Yeah, those days are over. He's as committed as he can be, and he loves it. 

He's mated, impatient for Cas to go into heat so he can put his kittens in him. Or fledglings, Dean doesn't discriminate. His kids. As long as he doesn't have to nurse an egg, and according to Cas, that's not happening. Dean is slowly catching up with the u-turn his life took the moment he laid eyes on Cas. There's going to be repercussions for the kidnapping that is not a kidnapping, but they'll deal. Nobody can separate them anyway. Still, Dean isn't looking forward to meeting Cas's former flight alpha, or his brothers, for that matter. They are assholes. Dean is going to behave, no reason to make it worse. He doesn't want to be the cause of any rift between Cas and his family.

Yeah, he should have thought of that sooner.

But whatever. As long as they are together, they can handle annoying family members just fine. He has practiced for years on Sam and their dad. Shouldn't be too difficult, although he'll probably have to punch that Zachariah dude in the face for coveting _his_ mate. Dean's not going to win any popularity contests with the family. 

Dean finally gets over the mountain ridge, and he stops, in awe of the scenery. It's no wonder that Cas wanted to go here. The lake lies like a dark mirror at the bottom of the crater; a large lake that reflects the moon and the stars that are shining a doorway to the universe on the bottom of it. Above it, a bow-shaped silhouette against the moon, Cas is flying, bending the wind and the air to his will. Dean lets out a loud, "Mrrwah," to let Cas know that he's here, not sure whether Cas can hear it so far up as he is. 

Although albatrosses aren't hunters, but fishers, Cas has sharp eyes. He swipes the sky clean of stars, his huge wings dark shadows over Dean's head. After a few turns, Cas lands on the shallow water that is but a weak reminder of the huge lakes and the vast ocean that Cas probably prefers. Cas tilts his had back, letting out an encouraging braying. 

Dean snorts and meows again, with a paw sending a spray of water in Cas's direction. Cas makes another shrill cry that sounds as if he's laughing.

Maybe Cas doesn't know that Bengals love water? If he doesn't, he's going to have a surprise because the game is _so_ on!

Ignoring that the water is icy, Dean jumps from one stone to another, narrowly avoiding getting soaked, before he makes a leap, pouncing on Cas, being as much at a disadvantage as he, clumsy as he is when he's not on his wings in the air. Cas bills his beak and flaps, rising up from the water like a fat-bellied seaplane, narrowly avoiding Dean's attack. Dean looks up, to his neck in cold water, not really bothered by it. He mrrrows at Cas, jumping up on a rock, then to another, before he sits down, wanting to get his fur in order. Cas stays in the sky, the damned coward. Cas can do that, Dean's going to get his revenge later, when he has Cas in bed and can tease him mercilessly. 

Dean makes a soft purr, watching Cas ride the wind. He thinks that Cas is looking for fish, and after a while, Dean decides to do the same. He searches for a good place to catch smaller fish and finds a pool of shallow water that is not yet frozen. He sticks his paw into the water when he sees movement, hoping to surprise a winter-slow fish. With no luck, Dean makes a few attempts before he gives up; he likes water, but it is a little too cold to his liking.

Cas sweeps down once, twice before he returns to the shore, dumping a small, squirming fish in front of Dean. Dean chirps at Cas, pleased that his mate is such a good hunter. Not letting the fish suffer, Dean kills it immediately and fillets it neatly with a claw. Fresh sushi isn't too bad, although Dean still prefers a burger—or a mouse, since Aspen has everything, but not a burger joint in sight. Gnawing at the last remains of the dead fish, Dean watches Cas as he circles again, this time tipping his wings to get Dean's attention before he straightens his course, flying in the direction of the cabin.

Full and content, Dean follows. If he'd been in his human form, he'd been grinning like a Cheshire cat. Two days ago, all he had was thirty bucks, an old car and a grumpy brother. The he saw Cas and in a second, his entire life changed.

Now he has it all.

 

**Chapter 4. On the Road Again**

They wake up too early, but they are in no particular hurry to leave the Aspen cabin. Insisting that Cas stays in bed, Dean contributes with what he can offer: he explores the kitchen, cooking up a—if he has to say so himself—great breakfast from what he finds in the freezer and the pantry. He even makes them sandwiches for the ride from a loaf of bread from the freezer. After breakfast, they shower and make love. They know where they are going, but there is no reason to push it; they are mates now, inseparable. Getting married is the confirmation that they belong together, but there is no way that Dean will rush it; he has things to do, a mate to worship and satisfy before they are on the road again.

When they are ready to leave, the early morning sun is warm, the snow glittering and the wind gentle. It's a beautiful day and Dean sings along with the mixtape he put into the cassette player, which leads him to discover a minor flaw in his mate: Cas does not appreciate AC/DC too much. But instead of complaining, Dean kisses Cas on the cheek and falls even more in love with him for it.

They hit the highway before the morning rush hours. It's a smooth ride, despite the light snow that soon disappears when they get down from the mountains. Castiel is quiet, but his smile is happy, so Dean's fine with that. Somehow the silence and the relaxed mood tell Dean more than anything how good they are together. 

It is hours later when Dean's stomach wakes up, growling at him and at the world. Castiel laughs at him. "Man can't live on love alone."

"Which is why I made us food, Cas." Of course they could risk buying burgers at a drive-thru, it worked before. Only providing food for them, if only because he slapped ham, cheese and bread together, makes Dean satisfied that he can serve his omega. My duffel."

"Hungry," Cas says, reaching for the bag in the back seat. 

Cas rummages around in Dean's duffel for the promised lunch box. But that is not what he holds in his hand when he lets out an, "Dean?"

"Fuck," Dean says. Yeah, so he has ignored Sam and the gazillion messages on the phone in favor of his mate and their bedroom fun. Cas might have forgotten too, in favor of their intense mating. "Erm, maybe I should, er, call? Someone?"

There are times when Dean forgets that his mate is actually the CEO of a multi-million-dollar corporation, and not because he's pretty. Castiel is the boss of several thousand people, and now it shows, because Cas sure ain't meek when it comes to taking decisions.

"You should call your brother before he teams up with Michael. We do not need to deal with Michael, too, Dean. I would like to enjoy my honeymoon with you before we have to go back, and I will not have Zachariah interfere, nor Michael for that matter." Cas is determined, and Dean is not going to deny Cas anything he wants. Dean actually feels a little like a misbehaved kitten whose cruel owner just smacked it with the newspaper. He slams on the mask he uses when he is covering up any unwanted emotions, because he doesn't want Cas to know that he feels bad about having left Sam to deal with the crazy brother and the aftermath of him, eloping with Cas.

"We're not getting into trouble." Dean says it with a conviction he doesn't have. Of course Cas ran away with him because he wanted to run away, and Dean would never have forced him, the mere idea is insane. The joining of two mates, despite how the world once were, must be consensual. Still, were society suffers from old wounds, and it is not too far fetched that some might suspect that Dean took Cas because he wanted him and the fortune that apparently comes with him. As Cas had pointed out, there had been a reason for the bodyguards.

In the future Cas won't need them because Dean will personally kill anyone who looks at Cas wrong. 

Of course Cas is now taken, mated and—come this evening—married and therefore not an interesting prospect to those asshole alphas who are still living in the last century. Or in the one before. Anyway, Cas is _his_ , and anyone who questions it will have to deal with Dean and his right fist. When it comes to protecting Cas, Dean is not afraid to sink so low as to use violence to defend his mate.

Thus determined to fight the world for Cas, Castiel is the one who shoots him down.

"Dean, you were accused of kidnapping on TV. I know they didn't mention your name, but the police knows who you are, I'm certain. We _are_ in trouble. Some officers are not going to ask first and arrest you later. We should call our brothers before it gets out of hand. Please!"

Dean surrenders. "You first." He offers the phone to Cas who takes it with a shake of his head. He taps in a row of numbers, putting the phone on speaker. It rings a couple of times before someone takes it.

"Alighieri," the person in the other end says.

"I have not been kidnapped, Gabriel."

"Yeah, you say that now, but I know better. At least he's hot. Not as hot as the little brother, but still hot."

"I can hear you, asshole," Dean growls. "If you have touched my—"

"Kettle, black, Dean. I seem to recall we've been here before. Threats don't work on me. I've been threatened by the best, and you still need some work to get there."

"I'm going to—"

"Shut up, Dean," Cas says in a kind tone that more than the words tells Dean that he better. "Don't make it worse." 

Oh, Dean would like to make it worse. Too occupied with the asshole on the phone, Dean forgets to drive. The Impala swerves and Dean decides that he can crash her at a later and more appropriate point if he is so inclined. He looks in the rear mirror and lowers the speed, looking for a spot where he can safely stop his girl. 

Directing his attention to the phone, since Dean has proven that he isn't out to kill them both in a car crash, Cas makes a new attempt at making Gabriel understand. Dean isn't betting on Cas's success. Gabriel is annoying and dances to his own tune, that's for sure. 

"Gabriel, tell Michael and Zachariah to stop harassing me. I left with Dean willingly and I'll be back next week."

"And how do I know that Deano isn't threatening you with a club?"

"A... club?"

"Yeah, there's a whiff of Neanderthal that makes me believe he might not be able handle anything more advanced." Gabriel snorts and laughs at his own joke. "Ow, Sam!"

"Ow? What the hell, Gabriel! I told you that if you touch my—"

"Dean?" It's Sam's voice. "Why aren't you replying to your messages, you idiot? You have the whole Alighieri clan out to get you. Or, Michael and Zachariah, mostly. Gabriel is not—"

"Because I'd frigging avoid conversations like this, Sammy. What are you doing with Gabriel?" Dean's inner alpha is raging. If the annoying little rubber duck of a were-bird has as much as looked at Sam funny, Dean's gonna rip him a new one.

"Putty tat?" It's Cas's voice, mouth close to his ear so that nobody can hear. "No claws."

"Okay, Cas, okay!" Dean turns and presses his nose against Cas's neck, inhaling deeply, as if Cas's scent is calming him. It probably is, or Dean's merely distracted by how attractive Cas is. Whatever. It helps him think.

"Dean? Are you there?" Sam again. 

"Yeah. And you are with Gabriel?" Dean says it the way that he'd have said 'and you are in a pit full of cockroaches?'.

"Obviously. He was worried. Michael and Zachariah are on the warpath. They'd very much like to frame you for a kidnapping. They have no proof, and of course I didn't tell them I knew where you were, so the police is... reluctant, which is why they haven't flashed your face on national TV. But Michael and Zachariah informed Gabriel in no uncertain terms that 'no albatross of their lineage would ever sink so low as to take up company with a mongrel'. I suppose they meant you."

"Or you, Samsquatch." Gabriel's voice. "Your pedigree isn't exactly wallpapered with champion poodles, doggie. Plus, they are wrong. Not all were-albatrosses are stuck-up assholes, and some of us would _love_ to take up company with mongrels. Especially when they're as hot as you."

There's a noise in the phone like someone is grabbing it, and Sam groaning, "Gabe, no!", plus something that distinctly sounds like Sam's giggling. Dean is sure he hasn't slept enough. Sam doesn't giggle. Ever. Well, when he was two. 

"Gabriel, leave Sam alone," Castiel commands sharply. "God, I am ashamed to call you my brother."

There is some more noise before Gabriel comes back. "You love me. Everybody loves me."

"Wouldn't count on it," Dean snaps. "If you have—"

"Going round in circles, our conversation," Gabriel says. "Cas, come back before those two idiot alphas have an army after you."

"We're going to Vegas," Castiel says. "We'll come back, after."

"After? Oh, Cas! You've got yourself a mate? You're running away to get married?"

"Goodbye, Gabriel." Castiel finishes the call and turns the phone off. He's about to roll down the window when Dean stops him.

"What is it with you people?" It's not that he's against getting rid of the phone, since Cas finds it a proper pastime to defenestrate them, but now that Sam has shacked up with Gabriel, Dean is reluctant. He needs to keep an eye on the situation. So he snatches the phone out of Castiel's hand and shoves it in his jeans' front pocket. "Are you entirely unable to handle phones and phone calls? And what is your brother doing to my brother?"

"I'm afraid Gabriel is..." Cas shrugs, looking as he has no idea what to say. "Gabriel."

"Not as set on keeping the Alighieri line as pure and clean as Zachariah would like it to be?"

"He might, but he is also living in the real world, contrary to some other members of my flight I could mention."

"So now you're saying that my brother isn't safe with Gabriel?"

"That depends what you mean by safe. And your brother is still six-feet-something and an adult were. If it came to that, I assume he is able to defend himself."

"And his virtue?"

"And his virtue."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant, Dean."

"But—"

"If they have... if Sam and Gabriel wants to... have, erm, intercourse, there isn't much you can do. And seeing that you abducted me to mate with me—"

"Did not!"

Castiel smiles a beatific smile. "Did too, putty tat. 'Come with me', you said. It wasn't a question. You were just lucky I took pity in you and decided to let you take me. So are you going to drive us to Vegas or not?"

Dean knows when he's defeated. He rolls his eyes at Cas, makes an annoyed sigh and surrenders to his destiny. He gives Cas yet another kiss before he starts the car again, continuing their road trip as planned. It's impossible to stay angry at Castiel. Dean, however, stays worried about Sam, swearing that he's going to make albatross soup out of Gabriel if he has done anything untoward to Sam. Like taking advantage of him.

Yeah, it's double standards. Does Dean care? 

Nope.

*

They are around a hundred miles from Vegas when they have to stop for gas. Baby's hungry, and so is Dean. The late afternoon sun is burning, and Dean is glad; he disguises himself under a cap, wearing Cas''s Armani sunglasses just to be sure he won't be recognized in case the alba-douches circulated his mugshot contrary to all common sense. Dean doesn't think so; they had to be a helluvalot more sure that he did what they are accusing him of to do that. Castiel, on the other hand, is the perceived victim, and since his handsome face is already public property, so to speak, they sure didn't hold back on flashing that one. Hence, Cas is hiding in the car, pretending to be asleep under his old trench coat.

Dean stocks up on road food and snacks, getting Cas a few rabbit food options; he's not sure what Cas would like, other than ham and cheese sandwiches and raw fish. Although Cas ate the breakfast that Dean made for him, so pancakes, bacon and beans go down too. Dean looks at the packaged mixed salad with distaste and throws a whole pie in the basket out of spite. The smell of cherry pie makes Dean's mouth water.

The guy at the counter looks at Dean for a second too long, but then he looks away, ringing up the stuff Dean has collected. Sunglasses really make him look like a total douche, but at least they cover his face. Dean is about to hand over the fake credit card he used at the inn, but thinks again and takes another, another that does not have his name on it. Register-guy swipes the card without looking at it, so Dean thinks they're good, Cas and he. Nobody cares.

Nobody shouts or looks out the window when Dean leaves, but the gas-guy has disappeared into the back of the shop. Dean gets into the car, wakes up pretend-sleeping Cas, and drives away, relieved, resisting the temptation to speed up to get away from the gas station and the slightly too curious clerk.

As the gas station is behind them, no longer visible in the mirrors, Dean breathes out. "He was looking at me funny for a moment, but I think it was the glasses. I look like a jerk."

"They are Armani," Castiel argues. "At least you look like a rich jerk."

"I _am_ a rich jerk, or so you say." Dean doesn't think he's ever going to get used to that. He hopes he won't. It's Cas's money, no matter what the stupid trust fund rules say. Dean won't have anything to do with them.

The traffic is not too bad, and Dean goes with the flow, determined not to stick out in any other way than by driving a car that doesn't look like the ugly little bugs that people seem to prefer these days. They pass a city sign that says, 'Welcome to Wolfstown,' which Dean thinks sounds promising. He didn't think there were that many wolves in Utah, but good for them. "What kind of car do you drive?" Dean asks Cas, because it sort of matters; Cas is perfect, but not flawless; he still doesn't like AC/DC. Dean can sure live with a few flaws. "If you drive a Prius, I'll have to rethink our relationship," he says, with a touch of seriousness added. It'd be a definite flaw, although Dean can't think of anything at all that would deter him from being with Cas.

"Lincoln Continental. Mark V. A '78."

"Are you serious?" Dean turns and looks at Cas, somehow realizing that he has discovered a really interesting fact about him. "Why?"

"It was there. I like it."

"Didn't think your clan was into that kind of business," Dean says, trying to keep serious. Cas is driving a frigging pimpmobile. 

"It was my father's."

"Oh." Cleverly Dean shuts his mouth. "At least it's a V8. I got Baby from my dad, too. My girl here." Dean caresses the wheel lovingly.

"Let me know if you want some alone time with your car, Dean."

"I'd rather have some alone time with you, tweety. You know, without our brothers sticking their nose in _our_ business."

Cas smiles at Dean, leaning in to give him kiss. The Impala is steady on the road and Dean lets him, except Cas turns away, looking out the back with a scared expression on his face. Wide-eyed he turns back. "We might not get the chance."

Dean looks in the rearview mirror. There's a car behind them. The flashing blue lights on the top tell Dean exactly what kind of car. There is a long stretch of blacktop in front of them and nowhere to go. "I could maybe outrun them if—"

"No. We can't get away. We are not Thelma and Louise, Dean. We have done nothing wrong. I won't have you arrested for resisting arrest."

Dean sends the police car another glance. "I have a rep sheet that ain't too clean. They are not going to release me anytime soon. No outstanding warrants as far as I know, but they won't believe me when I tell them I didn't kidnap you."

"That is..." Looking down, Castiel sighs.

"You ashamed of me?" It's understandable. The divide between them, the difference between them, their place in were society, could not have been any bigger. "If you wanted, you could take off. Fly away. Unless they have a were bird of some kind with them, they won't be able to catch you."

"Of course I cannot. I am not leaving. You are my mate."

Dean is relieved. Maybe Cas really is flawless despite his choice of car? "Okay. I'll deal with this. Promise me you'll do what I tell you, no questions asked. I can get us out of there. Won't be the first time I break outta jail."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Cas admits and squeezes Dean's hand when the car comes to a halt. "Be careful."

"I promise, tweety." Dean squeezes back. They sit like that, hand in hand, until there's a knock on the window and the officer demands that they step out of the car.

 

**Chapter 5. Arrested Development**

"I have not been abducted," Castiel repeats, as if the sheriff didn't hear him the first ten times. "Dean is my mate."

"Mr Novak-Alighieri, until we have spoken to our were liaison, we have to—"

"You don't have to do anything, and if you don't keep your hands off my—"

"Dean!" Castiel's voice is sharp and strained. "And it's Novak-Winchester."

Cas is right. It's probably not a good idea to threaten an officer, proving that he is exactly what he is trying to prove that he's not. 

"You will address my mate with respect and by the name he carries," Dean snarls. "And get me a lawyer. I'm not saying a word until our lawyer is here," Dean states firmly. "Same goes for my mate. Cas, get us a lawyer." Their eyes meet, and Cas nods.

The officer will have none of it. He pushes Dean forward to the desk, putting a tray in front of him. "Empty your pockets." The officer points at the tray, and Dean does what he's asked. He has to play this carefully or he and Cas are going to spend some time explaining, and even more time locked up. Dean has been here before. Not in this particular office, nor in front of this particular cop, but they are all the same, works the same way, and Dean is not taking it. He is what he is, a criminal sometimes, and a piece of tree trash all the time. When they find out about his previous run ins with the law, they are not going to let him out, no matter what Cas says, not until the cops have their backs covered, or Castiel has brought in the big guns. Dean's not going to wait for either. He promised Cas Vegas, and Dean always keeps his promises.

Dean throws his wallet, a handful of coins, and his phone in the tray, pretending not to care when the officer pats him down. 

"If you'll follow me, Mr Alighieri," the sheriff says, clear from the tone of voice that he's not asking. "We need to get you to a doctor while we wait for your flight alpha to contact us. To make sure you are all right. It's right across the street. We shall contact your flight alpha immediately, so that he can come fetch you."

To make sure Dean hasn't raped him. Yeah, because he'd do that, all alphas do. What the hell is it with this backwater town? Have these idiots never seen a were before? Or read any were laws that weren't written in the 18th century?

"My name is Novak-Winchester. My glaring alpha is Dean. Contact him. Zachariah Alighieri is my uncle, not my alpha—in any capacity ." Cas looks at Dean, then to the right, at his own hand, like he's trying to tell Dean something. "And as you clearly believe I am a victim of a crime—which I am not—I want to be released from your custody immediately. When my lawyers are done with you, you are going to regret how you treated my mate. As a sheriff you have to be aware that keeping an omega from his alpha is an offense, so right now _you_ are the offender, not my mate."

"Mr Novak-Alighieri, please don't make this—"

"I dislike being forced to repeat myself, Officer. It is Novak-Winchester of the Winchester clan and glaring. Dean is my mate and alpha. Do not offend me or my mate by suggesting otherwise." Cas opens his hand briefly, out of sight. There is something shiny hidden there.

The sheriff takes Cas's arm, and Dean swears that if the man doesn't let go, he'll make sure that Cas is the last person he touches. Dean lets out a fierce hiss, his claws out. It's not a threat, and yet... 

Cas hesitates, looking to Dean for help. Dean yanks his own arm out of the officer's grip and steps up to Cas before anyone can react. He pulls Cas away from the offending touch, hissing like a mid-sized steam engine at the sheriff. The guy might not be used to dealing with weres, because he flinches as Dean's sneers at him, canines elongated. Dean embraces Cas quickly, hand searching for Cas's. A brief touch, and Dean holds something small and sharp in his own hand. Cas pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. "Dean?"

"Cas, do what he says, I have this," Dean urges. "Just do it."

"I'll be ready when you come for me," Castiel says and nods his accept to the sheriff. He follows the man with no more fuss. He doesn't even look back as they leave.

If Dean hadn't known before, he knows now. Cas and he are meant to be together. He has found the perfect mate. There is nobody like Cas. He truly is a rare creature.

"Winchester, move." The police officer pushes Dean, none too gently, towards a heavy door in the back of the room. "If you insist on remaining silent, you are going to wait in a cell until your appointed lawyer is here."

Dean shrugs and basically ignores the officer as he processes Dean, fingerprints and ID. There is nothing he can do about it. Right now Dean needs the officers to go away so that he can get out. Since the sheriff is determined to deny Cas access to anyone but Zachariah, they have to get out. Sure, they could wait and deal with the flight alpha, but Dean doesn't want that. He wants Cas, he wants them safe, and this is not safe. It's a feeling that grows so strong that Dean can hardly bear it, restless and angry because he is kept from his mate. He _needs_ Cas, needs him close where he can be protected and cared for, like Dean is supposed to protect him.

As not to snap and rip the officer to pieces, he concentrates on finding a way out, noting the location of doors and windows, anything that can help them escape this dump and get back on the road.

"Where's my car?" Dean demands. He wants the Impala, not some getaway car he doesn't know. At least he needs to know that she's safe; as safe as she can be in the hands of these underdeveloped asshats.

The officer takes pity in Dean. "Outside. Highway patrol brought it in." He pauses. "Nice car. '68?"

"'67," Dean volunteers. He doesn't think that's gonna hurt. "Key? You should give it to Castiel. He'll take care of her."

The officer nods, but Dean doesn't know whether he's going to do it. Oh, well. If he doesn't, it's not gonna be the first time Dean hotwires his beloved car, but he'd prefer not to. It takes time, and he doesn't like to hurt his precious baby.

*

The holding cells look like most holding cells that Dean has seen; unfortunately he does have some insider experience with those. Dean looks around while the officer unlocks a cell. Concrete walls, six small cells with nothing but bars dividing them. Vague smell of piss and vomit, covered up by chlorine bleach. There's an open door at the corridor's far end, next to a cell that is partly hidden behind a wall. The door is open and Dean can see a sink and a toilet. Windows are too small to get through. Only way out is the door to the office. It won't be easy, but Dean knows he can do it. He has to. There's no telling what they are going to do to Cas. Dean growls at the mere thought of it. God, he needs out, and he needs out now. He wants his mate to be safe and happy, and this is as far from safe and happy as can be.

Dean steps inside his appointed cell. It is pointless to resist; it's only going to go downhill from there if he tries. Dean's getting out anyway, and a lock is not going to stop him. He squeezes the thing Cas passed to him in his closed fist. It feels like a keyring. Dean waits until the door is shut behind him before he turns around.

The officer walks away, leaving Dean alone. Although a snorting and sniffing that comes from the cell at the far end cures him of the notion that he's actually alone here. Dean steps up to the bars, trying to get a look at the other prisoner. Dean takes a whiff. Yeah, he is as alone as one can be when there's a huge werewolf in the cell in the back. The werewolf sniffs again, not caring to hide that he's checking Dean out. The guy makes a huff, scratches his beard and steps forward, clear blue eyes on Dean, examining him.

Dean doesn't care. If the wolf's trying to stare him down, he's not doing a very good job of it. Not all wolves get along with feline weres, it's in their nature; maybe the guy's simply not friendly towards cats. Then again, if weres always gave in to their instincts, Cas would have been forced to mate with Zachariah and Dean would have been dead. Dean doesn't pick up any animosity from the wolf, though. He decides to take a chance. Since the wolfie is behind bars, too, there's a probability that he's going to help Dean if he asks nicely. 

Dean waves at the guy through the bars.

"Hi. I'm Dean." he says. "I'd shake hands with you, but..." He taps the bars with a claw.

"Benny."

"Listen, Benny. I know this sounds a little out there. You know Alighieri Inc.?"

"Who doesn't?" Benny leans back against the wall, hands in his pocket. "Yes."

"The sheriff has my mate, that's Castiel Novak, outside, and he refuses me to let me—"

"You don't look much like someone who'd be mated to an albatross." Benny sniffs. "You're a cat. Those winged weres don't mate outside their own species."

"Shit happens, and Castiel is my mate. Okay, you don't believe me, that's fine, but let's for the sake of it say that what I say is true, which it is."

"I'm listening."

"In about five minutes I need someone—that'd be you—to make a lot of noise so I can do what I need to do."

"And what's that?" Benny looks interested now.

"Get the fuck out of here and get my mate so we can go to Vegas and get married."

"I thought you said—"

"I know what I said. We're already mated, and we want to get married before Castiel's former flight alpha gets any ideas. Marriage takes care of the legal side when it comes to human law. Call it insurance." Dean smiles. He doesn't do all that soppy romance stuff, but it's different with Cas. "And there is also the little known fact that I am very much in love with my mate and I want to be married to him because it'll make him safe and happy, and therefore it'll make me happy. Did I mention I'm in love?"

Benny laughs, a deep rich laugh. "Yeah, you're a real sweetheart, I can see that. What's in it for me? I could do it for love and world peace, but I'd like there to be something in it for me."

Benny sure isn't as innocent as he looks. "I could invite you to the wedding tonight, but you're... occupied, no doubt. What do you want?"

"If you're really mated to Castiel Novak, you owe me one. Could be useful. You see, when you leave, I'm stuck here. Might need some help getting out. Something with less getaway cars and more legal approval. I could use a friend. Or maybe a lawyer. A good one. I think I'm gonna sue the town. How do you call a place Wolfstown, then have no wolves in it? These people had never seen a werewolf in their life when I first moved here, and the shit they pull needs to be addressed. Can't do that by myself."

"Yeah, I gathered as much. I don't have my business card on me. Not that I have one in the first place; I'm the unemployed tree trash that got lucky enough to catch Cas's attention. You able to remember a mail address?"

"Works for me."

"It's tomcat67@werenet.com," Dean says. "Or you could always contact Cas, if you forget. Got a last name? I'll tell Cas to look for it, or let his secretary let you through on the phone." Dean assumes that Alighieri Inc. has a website and secretaries.

"Lafitte."

"Okay, Benny Lafitte. Thanks. Just a minute, and we'll get this party started."

"I'm all yours, brother."

Dean whips out the key ring that Castiel passed him. He sees it immediately. "Oh, Cas, you clever bastard." There are three keys in the ring, and a small Leatherman multi-tool. "My mate is frigging perfect," Dean says, not really to anyone, but still. "Frigging perfect." Unfolding the tool, Dean finds a screwdriver and a set of tweezers. "Party in three," he tells Benny, and goes to work. The old locks are good, but they are not that good. It takes Dean less than two minutes to get the door open. He breaks off a leg of the tweezers and uses it to block the mechanism so that the door won't lock. Then he closes the door again, making it look like he is still locked up.

"How's it going, brother?" Benny asks. "Any luck?"

Dean puts Castiel's keyring in his left sock, just in case he needs it again, although if the police catch him, there probably isn't any place on Dean's body left unexamined. "Fine, dude. I'm ready. Sorry I can't take you with me; but I swear I'll get you help as soon as I'm able."

"So what do you need me to do, exactly?"

"I don't know. Pretend you've gone crazy, or that you have acute appendicitis or that you are changing out of moonrise. Just get as many in here as you can, and keep them focused on you. I'll sneak out, shut the door to the cells so they can't get out right away. How does that sound?"

"Risky. But it's your hide. I'm doing my part, you do yours."

"I will. Thanks, man."

"No problem," Benny says and starts wailing like a werewolf caught under an eighteen wheeler. 

It takes a few moments before Dean joins in. "Sheriff! Hey! Something is wrong with this guy here! Hello? Sheriff!" he belts as loud as he can, adding to the infernal noise of a suffering werewolf. "Anyone? Help!

Then there are doors slamming and people running. The door to the cell wing is slammed open and three officers and the sheriff come running like the Devil himself were at their heels. The first officer looks at Dean, maybe for an explanation, and Dean points at Benny. "I don't know what's wrong. He was whimpering and groaning, and then he started wailing."

And like that, Benny's wailing and howling gets even louder. All the officers hurry to the bottom cell, nobody caring about Dean at all. Four men mill into the cell, disregarding that a werewolf in pain isn't like a puppy with a stomach ache. Their problem, not Dean's, and besides, Benny isn't really suffering. Carefully, without making noise, Dean gets out from his cell, eyes on the officers, as he gets to the door to the offices. He peeks inside. The corridor and the adjacent rooms look empty, open doors and abandoned coffee mugs. Dean turns and fiddles with the locking mechanism on the cell wing door, pushing the remaining tweezer leg into the lock, breaking the end off so it can't be pulled out easily. Now the sheriff and his people can have their try fixing it. It's not going to happen without help from a locksmith, Dean's sure. It gives him at least five, ten minutes before they are done playing with Benny and the ruined lock and have called for help. They've got an hour at best. Good thing is that the officers might not be that interested in involving anyone outside their jurisdiction. That's what shame and fear of ridicule does to people. Might give them a bit more time too.

Dean hurries towards the front door, pausing only for a second to look for the key to the car. There's a box on the wall that is open, several sets of keys inside it, but not the keys to the Impala. Maybe the officer actually gave them to Cas. It's a possibility, what with Cas being the perceived victim and all. Looking around for anything else that could be useful, Dean sees something on front desk. There's a file lying there with his own name on it. It's a little bulky, as if they've put something there that is not just sheets of paper.

"Assholes," Dean sneers, grabbing the file. As he thought, the keys are inside it. He folds the thin cardboard file and sticks it in his back pocket. _Out back_ , the officer had said, when Dean asked about Baby. It means that he has to fetch her before he finds Cas; they need to get to her as fast as possible when he has freed Cas. Going back to the backyard of the sheriff's office to get his car is not an option. Dean looks around once more. His wallet and phone are nowhere in sight. Crap.

Clearly, out back means 'right in front of the building'. Dean makes a silent whoop, foregoing his car to go in search of Cas. Baby stays where she is, it's the perfect getaway position. It might even lead any outside help to believe that Dean is still inside, or has chosen to steal another car. These cops are _pros_.

As Dean crosses the street, looking for the doctor's clinic, he ponders upon how old beliefs still flounder; it's incredibly that nobody cares to listen to what Cas is saying, like an omega has no mind of his own. Frigging ignorant human townspeople. Dean wishes that Sam had finished his studies at Stanford, because right now he'd like to set a fierce were law specialist on this stupid, biased place, reminding them that omegas, and especially omegas like Cas, are powerful and fierce, and that any omega, especially Cas, has to be protected at all costs. Basically, Dean would like to see these asshats bow down to _his_ perfect omega, because Castiel should be worshiped like the unique creature that he is. If only they'd listened, Dean wouldn't have had to stage an escape, as if they were criminals on the run. He hopes that whatever attorney who takes Benny's case is going to shred the Sheriff and his stupid, biased cops to pieces.

Dean growls and hisses at everything and nothing, because he is just that annoyed. 

He finds the entrance to the medical clinic, neatly marked with a small plate on the door. Nobody is there to stop him, but he hesitates. No, he can't go in that way, there are patients, maybe a nurse or a secretary. Dean decides to go around, see how the clinic looks from the backside. He's wasting precious time, but it is necessary because it might help them get away more smoothly. Dean crouches, making sure he cannot be seen from the windows as he sneaks around the corner, to the backside of the small one-story building. 

A few windows down he can hear voices. Dean sniffs. He can smell the sharp smell of disinfectants and soap. Yep, that'd be it, the doctor's office. He takes another whiff, trying to determine how many people are in there. One he doesn't know, but the other... _Cas_. Dean sneaks closer, wanting to take a look, checking whether it's possible to get Cas out that way. He waits for a little, listening to the doctor, at least Dean thinks it's the doctor.

_—to worry about. Of course you should avoid stress. I'm sorry about this, Mr Novak-Winchester. It is no excuse for the way the sheriff treated you. They do their best. There are no weres in this town, apart from Benny, so they are not used to your kind. Still, they should know better. But your child is not in danger. It is very early. As you say, it has only been a day since your heat, or what might have been your heat, since you never realized that it started. Right now your hormone profile is the only indication we have; there is nothing to see yet. But I'm sure that you took; no heat cuts off the way yours did, unless you and your mate got it in one try. Good choice of mate, if you don't mind me saying so. Make sure to get some rest, and preferably as much physical contact with your mate as soon as possible. Your pregnancy should—_

Dean sits down, his ass hitting the ground with a thunk. Child? Castiel is... pregnant? How the hell did that happen? Dean is speechless, breathless. He frowns. Castiel hadn't been in heat... or had he? He had complained about being too hot. They had mated right after that, and Dean had knotted Cas for an hour. They had enjoyed every moment of it. Dean had never experience anything as arousing as filling Cas to the brim with come. _Way to go, Winchester, hit it right the first time_! Yeah, he sure had filled Cas up. Mated, knotted and bred in one strike. 

Dean has a hard time, keeping silent. He wants to shout out his joy. He's going to be a father! Not entirely in the cards a week ago, but Dean thinks he can free some time up for that in his calendar. Like, the next nine months and eighteen years after that. 

He scrambles to get up, when someone speaks to him.

"Would you like a glass of water, Mr Winchester? You look a little shaken. I think your mate would like some support and maybe a hand to get outside through this slightly unconventional exit," a female voice says. A pretty brunette sticks her head out the window. "So, are you going to escape or not?"

"You're pregnant!" Dean exclaims. "Cas!"

Castiel is up from the chair and at the window in two seconds. "You heard! Is it... is it okay?" He looks worried for an instant, and Dean does not like that look on Cas's handsome face.

He reaches for Cas, pulling him down into a kiss. "It's perfect," Dean murmurs, his lips against Cas's. "You are perfect." Dean can't stop himself from touching Cas's belly as if it was growing already. "This is perfect."

The doctor coughs. "If Mr Novak-Winchester would be so kind as to lock me into the examination room before he leaves, we can get on with your escape. Before the neighbors from the other side of the street arrive with guns. Not that fond of them. Guns."

"Yes. Sorry. Thank you." Dean smiles because he's so damned happy, even in the middle of this mess. "Thank you, doctor."

"Anytime. No, wait. I'd prefer never to do this again, if you don't mind. And I'll tell them you talked about driving to..."

"Anywhere but Las Vegas," Castiel says. "We are getting married."

"We so are. My kid is not going to be an illegitimate stray cat." Dean grins. "I might be a mix, but at least my parents were married." He shakes the doctor's hand as she extends it.

"Congratulations. I'll say that I heard you say that you wanted to go Quail Creek State Park. It's in the opposite direction of Vegas. And it makes sense that your mate would like to go there; there is a large lake." The doctor shows with a move of her hand that she wants Cas to go with her. "Mr Novak-Winchester, if you please?"

Cas disappears and Dean scans the surroundings, listening for approaching cops. Everything is still quiet, apart from the muted cries from Benny. Dean is a little impressed that they are loud enough to be heard, even outside the sheriff's office. Benny's sure doing a good job. 

After a minute Castiel comes back without the doctor. "Help me," he demands, as if he wasn't a bird who could simply turn and fly outside. Dean fusses as he holds Castiel's hand, ensuring a safe escape from a window barely three feet off the ground. Dean doesn't care. Castiel is carrying his child, and Dean will carry his pregnant mate on his bare hands for every second of those nine months if necessary. If Castiel was precious before, he is doubly so now.

With Castiel's arms around his neck, Dean carries his burden a few feet before Cas laughs softly and squirms. "Let me down. It'll be quicker. We should get away while we can."

Dean agrees. "Right. We should duck so they can't see us from inside."

They move along the building, back to the corner of it, where they can see the street. Baby is still out there, waiting for them. There is no one to be seen in the sheriff's office across the street. Dean waves Cas forward, and he straightens up, acting normal as not to cause any suspicion from bystanders. They reach the Impala without being stopped. They get in, Dean starting the car as Castiel reaches for the seatbelt, only to realize that there is none.

"I'll fix that, Cas." Dean looks guilty. "Only for you. I want you and our kitten safe."

"I could get you another car, but I doubt it'd be appreciated." Cas does look a little worried. Maybe he's not used to real cars, driving around in that terrible pram of a limo and the awful pimpmobile. Dean really hopes that their child won't inherit Cas's less than perfect taste in cars and music. Seat belts and pop music, pffft. Then again, it's Cas's baby, so it's okay. Whatever traits Cas gives him, it's going to be the most loved kid in the world. Even if their kid wants to drive a Prius when he or she is able. With seat belts.

"You got that right." Dean snorts at the idea of another car, even if it means that his baby, the one on wheels, is going to be decked out like a frigging soccer mom vehicle. Dean swears that he's getting a customized leather and chrome car seat for the kitten. Or fledgling. There is a silver lining, though: somehow Cas is even more adorable now that Dean has discovered another flaw. He's sure Cas will come around, though, and learn to love real cars. Nobody resists Baby's charm. She's awesomeness on wheels—with or without seat belts. Dean is crying inside by the mere thought of doing that to her, but what the hell. She'll have to learn that from now on, she is only Dean's number three, four if he counts Sam. Cas and their baby are his priority now. 

But he's not giving up his car, and he tells Castiel that. "It's Baby or nothing. And Sam and I grew up in this car. Didn't hurt us one bit."

Castiel coughs. "That's debatable, putty tat. You are taking this escape very ...calmly."

"I hate you," Dean says lovingly as he turns Baby around and starts driving in the opposite direction of Vegas. Better get their pursuers off the track right away. He knows they have to be relatively close to the Nevada and Arizona borders, but Dean cannot stop himself from cursing the loss of his phone, annoyed that he can't use the GPS. Then again, albatrosses are supposed to know their way around the globe, but there is no way that Dean's gonna ask Cas to shift and fly, not in his condition. Maybe Cas has a sense of direction in his human form? Good thing is that the roads are few, which is sort of also bad, in case they run into the police before they are across the state line. Not that Dean thinks it matters; kidnapping is still a felony, something that Dean fully supports, just not right this instant. They better pray the police doesn't find them. It could get ugly. Dean is not only a kidnapper but an escapee. Yeah, that'd get ugly.

*

They drive quickly towards the state park, making sure to make as much noise as possible, burning rubber, making people passing by notice them. They'll have the police at their heels the moment the officers get out from the cells, Dean's sure. He puts the pedal to the metal and sends Baby down the empty road, her deep growling at the barren landscape a satisfactory response to the ordeal. Baby is fast for an old muscle car, and they are almost at the park when Dean hears sirens behind them.

"Next road to the right," Cas orders. "We go around and come out behind them, then continue ahead. We're staying on the dirt roads until we cross the border to Arizona. They'll be looking for us all around the park and the lake before they realize we have turned back and are heading in the other direction.

They drive on, silent and tense. Dean feels stupid, fleeing like this when he has done nothing wrong, but then again, he's not the one who jumped to conclusions and started a manhunt. Of course they could stop, give themselves up, but the Utah police, at least these particular specimens, are utterly clueless as to how were business and relations are conducted. Sad, but true, there are still people in the United States of America who are as old-fashioned as not to listen to an omega when he speaks. Not that the asshole Zachariah is making it better; he'd probably be elated if omega rights were retracted, leaving smart, strong omegas with no voice whatsoever. Dean sneers at the mere idea. Omegas are the core of their kind, the most true and pure were there is. Alphas are stupid, testosterone-poisoned fools compared to an omega; Cas is proof of how superior an omega can be. It has nothing to do with what Cas has: money, status, breeding. It has everything to do with what Cas _is_ : intelligent, pure, perfect. It's no wonder that any alpha worth his pathetic name would want someone such as Castiel, and Dean has yet to fully understand that Castiel belongs to him. He is the luckiest of all alphas on Earth. God, Dean is omega-whipped, and there is nothing in the world he'd rather be. Yeah, Dean will carry Castiel on his hands if need be. Only Cas has wings all of his own.

"I think I'm in love with you, tweety," Dean says, without wanting to say it; he really doesn't do that. "Really in love with you."

Castiel smiles that smile that makes the sun turn bleak and the sky less blue than the blue of Castiel's eyes. "Watch the road, Dean," Castiel says, and Dean gets Baby back on track, trying to pretend that driving his car is more important than staring lovingly at his mate. 

"I'd rather watch you," Dean says, and it is true. When they are married, he'll rent a hotel room and just... stare, look his fill, until Cas's visage is etched into his mind forever, erasing the memory of anything that isn't Castiel. He'll look until the world grows old and cities crumble around them, and time stops because there is nothing in the universe but Cas.

"I'd like that," Cas says. "I'm in love with you too."

Dean turns Baby into the side of the road, stopping her, her motor still humming. "Kiss me," Dean demands, because there is no way he can wait for Cas's kisses. He needs them now, needs Castiel's mouth against his, Cas's taste, his scent, the sensation of his tongue sliding against his own. "I frigging need you so much, Cas."

And Cas becomes pliant and soft in his arm, his mouth willing and open, Cas's hands in his hair. Dean sighs into Cas's mouth, licks at his wet lips, every touch pleasure. Fingers sliding across Cas's warm skin, the prickle of his scruff. A dark moan of pleasure vibrates in Dean's ear, making him shiver from lust.

"We should go," Cas says, his words a cool ghost across Dean's kiss-damp lips. "I couldn't bear to be separated from you again this day."

Cas is right, of course. It'd feel like getting his heart ripped out, Dean thinks, if someone prevented him from being with his mate. There is nothing that Dean needs as much as to worship at Cas's feet, giving him pleasure and comfort, thanking him for carrying their kitten, or their fledgling, whatever destiny decides to give them. "I know," Dean says, breathless and needy. "We need to get across the state line, and fast. It might stop them for a while."

Or not. 

Dean straightens up, ear perked, his refined sense of hearing slightly impaired by his human ears. Sirens. They are far away, probably miles and miles, but Dean's sure. "We need to go," he tells Cas, hiding his nervousness underneath a cover of relaxed confidence. "The sooner we get away, the better our chances."

Cas's hearing might not be as sensitive as Dean's, but his other senses sure are. Cas stares at him, another kind of stare, one that seems to look right through him. "You can hear them, can't you?"

There's no reason to pretend. Cas has the right to know. "Yeah. Not sure how far, depending on the wind... At least five miles or so. I don't think they know we took the dirt roads, though."

"All right." Cas is surprisingly calm, whereas Dean's nerves suddenly decide to play tricks on him. 

Dean takes a deep breath and eases Baby forward, back onto the road. It's a straight road and Baby eats it up greedily. The nervousness makes Dean jittery, as eager to get away as a racehorse. He doesn't like it, it's too much, too close. He must protect Cas, needs to, and he can't if the police gets to them again. 

"What do we do, Cas?" Worry hits Dean again. There is more at stake now, Cas carrying their child. Nothing and nobody should be allowed to cause Cas any discomfort. So _what_ if they are arrested, Dean tells himself; the police has nothing on them, except for Cas locking the doctor into her own office, with her permission, no less. Of course they won't tell that to the police. The doctor was helping them, and there's no need to get her in trouble too. The problem is that Michael and Zachariah are so convincing that the police insists on staying in the delusion that Cas is a victim and Dean is a criminal. Dean is a criminal, but not today. So Dean drives as fast as Baby can go since any contact with the police will cause Cas distress. The sooner they can get married and have Cas explain the situation to someone who'll actually listen, the better. Dean knows that that is the best plan. The final decision, however, is Cas's.

Dean reaches over and squeezes Castiel's hand. "If you want we can turn ourselves in. We can get married later, when we have sorted this shit out. I don't want you and the baby to come to any harm."

"Dean, I'm barely two _days_ pregnant. Stop fussing."

"I don't care. Nobody hurts you or our kid."

Under pressure Castiel is calmer than Dean, oddly enough, like he grows stronger when the pressure does. "Rest assured that nobody will. They are going to regret it, if they try." Castiel rubs the bridge over his nose, like he's tired of the entire thing. When he looks back up, removing his hand, his eyes are clear and filled with determination. "I'm going to call Lucifer. I have had enough of Zachariah's single-minded approach to omegas in general, and to me specifically. Keep going, Dean, I have this."

"Lucifer? Are you sure that's a good idea?" Dean doesn't think they need yet another fool meddling with their affairs. It isn't going so well with the two that are already knee-deep in it. And there's Zachariah too. He believes himself to be Castiel's flight alpha; in that regard his actions might be... no... no, Dean is not going to excuse him. He's a biased asshat, and so is this Michael dude. As for Gabriel, Dean is yet undecided. He sure ain't convinced that another brother can bring anything helpful to the table. Plus, the police took Dean's phone, so Dean's not sure how Cas is going to manage any calls without one. Then again, Castiel is nothing but resourceful. "And how are you going to call—

Cas is entirely expressionless as he pulls out a smartphone from his trench coat pocket.

Dean's jaw hangs loose for a second. "How did you—"

"I might have come upon it when I, er, moved the doctor."

"You _stole_ it?"

"Some might call it that, yes. Desperate measures. I'm sure the doctor doesn't mind. I'll send her a new one as soon as we are back from Vegas."

"Go, Cas! I'm rubbing off on you." Dean is sort of proud of Cas, not that any Alighieri Inc. CEO should steal anything because stealing is _wrong_ , especially if it is Cas doing it; he should leave that to Dean! Despite his newfound morals, Dean feels strangely proud of his thieving, pick-pocketing mate. "And you think calling your other, other brother might help us how?"

"It'll work. Lucifer... Lucifer doesn't..." Cas hesitates, frowning, rubbing the bridge of his nose once more. "Lucifer doesn't socialize with the flight. He lives in Detroit—he's got a law firm there—and he keeps contact to an absolute minimum. He doesn't get along with Michael, and he detests Zachariah. He finds them beneath him. We... I'm not that fond of him, either, and I'm sure the feeling is reciprocated. Right now? He's useful. If there's war, Lucifer is who we need. He does war very well."

"And I thought my family was dysfunctional."

"It is... functional. As long as Michael and Lucifer are not in the same room. They aren't as horrible as you think, but they bring out the worst in each other. Zachariah... he isn't that bad, Dean. He's trying to protect the flight, like an alpha is supposed to. That's not bad, that's protective. I do not agree with his methods, but at least he tries not to rip the flight apart. There are so few of us as it is."

Dean is making a face. 

"Please understand that all Zachariah wants is to keep the flight together, although he favors Michael, always too concerned with what he thinks. That usually sends Lucifer into a snit and on they go. Gabriel and I, we tend to stay out of the line of fire. So does Raphael although, hard pressed, he usually teams up with Michael."

"But you'd rather have Lucifer as your flight alpha? The way he sounds, you'd think he'd be the one going on about purity of species and all that shit."

Castiel smiles a very innocent smile, putting a hand on his own belly. "You are my alpha. Too late for that now, don't you think? Purity of the line, I mean. Anyway, Lucifer used to be against mixing with other weres, but he is more informed regarding present day were relations than Zachariah and Michael."

"Also not mated yet?"

"Also not mated. I assume the apparent lack of American were-albatrosses made him mellow a little. Knowing Lucifer, he obeys to a certain point, then moves on to not give a damn. He loves the law—as long as it doesn't apply to him."

"You trust him?"

"No. I trust him to wish to annoy Michael and to help make Zachariah look bad. Lucifer is vengeful and childish, but he is useful to us right now. He is trustworthy in the sense that he never lies, however. If he tells us he'll help, we can trust him to do that."

"Maybe I like him, then, despite." Dean smirks. He'll help Lucifer any day, annoying Zachariah, no matter how big an asshole Lucifer is otherwise. Right now it's what they need, some big ass motherfucker other than Cas to step up and pull some legal strings. Those are strings that Cas plays, too, but not well enough, and not today. So if Lucifer is in, so is Dean. "You gonna make the call? And could you ask him to help a guy get out? From back there. Jail." Dean point over his shoulder in the direction of the police station. "Benny, Benny Lafitte. He helped me escape. He needs a lawyer."

"I'll ask. Lucifer is not easy to deal with. But I'll get one of the company lawyers to take Benny's case, if Lucifer refuses."

"Great." Dean leans in and kisses Cas again, a quick peck on the lips. He sighs, all the happiness is spilling over, despite their situation. "You are perfect."

"You keep saying that," Castiel says. "I like it."

Dean leans back in the seat, entirely enchanted by his mate. He can't stop himself from reaching over, placing a hand on Castiel's stomach, happy to know that their kid is growing in there, even though it has been doing so only a few days. "Call him," Dean urges, and Cas starts typing the number as Dean drives on.

It takes a while before someone answers.

"Who is this?" The sharp demand is barked into the phone, so loud that Dean can hear. Maybe it's Lucifer's private line or something, because there is no polite secretary or any indication that Cas has called the law firm.

"Your nest brother Castiel." Cas fiddles with the phone. A voice that is velvet over steel fills the cabin as Cas puts the phone on speaker.

"Why so formal, Cas? What do you want?" The person in the phone sure is straight business and no pleasure.

"I need your help."

"I gathered as much. Is it Michael again? I watched the news. I didn't believe the kidnapping story. If it had been real, it wouldn't have been in the news at all, and we'd have been discussing whether to pay the ransom by now. Plus, you can hold your own. You could have taken off on your own wings any time. I'd like so see how a kidnapper would have dealt with that."

"Michael and Zachariah." Castiel sighs. Dean squeezes his hand.

"I'm listening."

"I have taken a mate," Castiel says, just like that. "We eloped. He is not albatross."

There's a pause. "You have..."

"... taken a mate, yes. He did not kidnap me. His name is Dean, and he's a Bengal."

"A _tiger_? Are you insane?"

"A Bengal _cat_ , Lucifer" Castiel snaps. "His parents are wolf and Bengal. And he likes birds."

"I'm sure he does," the voice in the phone says. "Let me guess. Mike and Zach are refusing to accept that you decided to roll in the dirt with tree-tra— with a predator?"

"I am _not_ rolling in the dirt." Castiel whips out the words before Dean can say anything. "And besides you're on speaker, Dean is sitting next to me, so right now he probably thinks you're exactly as unpleasant as you usually are. Be as kind as to rein in your albatross supremacist bias in front of my mate."

Lucifer laughs. "Touché, nest brother. I apologize. I am quite biased, I agree. I shall attempt to display a modicum of politeness in the future, seeing that you might not be the only one who'll have to mate outside the flight. So, this Dean is your mate? I suppose you mated with him of your own free will since you're calling me to help you with Michael and Zachariah."

Dean snarls into the phone, teeth bared. "Of course he mated with me because he wanted it. Who do you think y—" 

Castiel interrupts Dean's rant with a, "Shhh, Dean." Dean snorts derisively, but his mate has the floor, so Dean cleverly shuts up. Again. He's getting good at it. Maybe Cas is rubbing off on him, too?

Cas continues, sliding his hand into Dean's, stroking it gently. "Very much so. I chose him the moment I saw him for the first time. He is my... you know how it is. There is never going to be anyone else for me, and I assure you I chose wisely. Dean is everything I ever dreamed of."

Dean didn't think he could feel any happier. Cas's words hang in the air, like the echo of them refuses to die out. Or it is simply that Dean wants them to stay there, Castiel's love for him spelled out in two short sentences, each word sending jolts of pleased, warm shivers through Dean. God, he is so in love with his mate, so enthralled, utterly, utterly gone for him. Dean's happy sigh makes Cas turn and look at him, blue eyes filled with love and wonder. 

There is a pause. Baby comes to a slow halt on the dark dirt road. Dean stares and so does Cas, and that connection between them is like a hard-strung bow, the sense of pure tension and expectation almost unbearable. "Cas," Dean murmurs, croaking because Cas is so damned beautiful that it leaves him close to speechless.

"Dean," Cas whispers, head cocked, his lips parted as he breathes the word, caressing it, encasing it in the sound of his deep voice. 

Dean sighs again.

"Castiel!" Lucifer shouts. "Dammit, chicken! Are you there?"

Castiel seems to have trouble remembering anything but to stare at his mate. It pleases Dean to no end. "He's here," Dean growls at the phone. He doesn't care who Lucifer is, nobody speaks disrespectfully to Cas. "Watch your tone, brother-in-law, you are speaking to my mate. I ignored your disrespectful attitude once; if it happens again, I'm going to find you and make a down comforter out of you."

There are a few spluttering noises in the phone. "Do you want my help or not, Castiel?" Lucifer snaps. "If you do, I suggest you teach that alpha of yours some manners."

"Yes, please, brother," Cas says before Dean can say anything. Cas holds up his hand, making it quite clear that he's had enough. Dean shuts his mouth—again—not that he's not going to make good of the threat if Lucifer isn't behaving.

"What do you need?"

"We are on our way to Vegas. Zachariah obviously convinced the police that I was kidnapped. We were arrested in Wolfstown, and they wouldn't listen to me when I told them Dean is my mate. Dean got us out."

"Is that so."

"I want to marry Dean."

There's a sound in the phone as if Lucifer is having some kind of nausea attack. "You have the papers ready?"

Cas pauses and makes a face. "No."

"How soon will you be there?"

Looking at Dean for a clue, Castiel makes a, "Mmm, not sure?"

"Four, five hours, tops. Depending on how long we have to hide, not that there are that many places to go." Dean has been on the road to Vegas before, for less pleasant reasons, though. There is nowhere to hide, only miles and miles of sun-baked, empty desert and rocks, not counting the pothole-infested roads they are on right this instant. "And could you get us a lawyer for a guy who helped us escape from the holding cells in Wolfstown?" Dean asks cheekily. "Name's Benny Lafitte."

"Five hours? I can work with that." Lucifer sounds like he's writing something down. "You'll need a marriage license. Surname? Cas, you want to keep Novak-Alighieri?"

"Novak-Winchester," Cas says before Dean can say anything.

"And that goes for both of us." Dean is strangely touched that Cas wants his name. The Alighieri name opens doors, but clearly Cas doesn't care. So Dean sure is going to take Cas's name in return. Their marriage is equal in every way, and Dean has no urge to have anyone think that it is not the case.

Lucifer sounds strangely pleased. "Novak-Winchester it is. You can pick up the license at the marriage bureau when you get there if I fill out the pre-registration right away. They close at midnight, but you'll get there before then. I'll pay the fees online. I'll pay someone to wait for you in the lobby, too; if the police is still interested in you when I'm done collecting favors, you'd probably need to be in and out as fast as possible, and you both need to sign in person. I'll personally pay a notary to have the license ready, even go outside to meet you if necessary. We don't want anybody to think that you signed under pressure, Castiel. I know a few good lawyers I can call, I need someone who'll make sure you won't run into trouble with the law again, anyway." Lucifer scribbles something, the sound of pen on paper is sharp and clear in the phone. "Ask for Anna Milton when you arrive, or for Ruby. I'll hire them to help your friend Benny immediately, he should be out before midnight. Anna and Ruby don't take crap from anyone, and I am sure they are the right lawyers to convince the police that they should not take Zachariah's crap. I have a few connections within the Bureau; I'll see what I can find out. The license shouldn't cause you any problems, though, other than fetching it. All you need to do is to find Anna and the notary, show your original ID, sign the license and you are good to go. Hold on." 

There is pause. Dean can hear typing and talking in the background. It takes a few minutes before Lucifer is back. 

"Anna will be waiting for you at the Justice Center between 10:30 pm and midnight. If you need the fast lane to get married," Lucifer says, "there is a drive thru chapel almost around the corner from the marriage license bureau. I'll reserve a spot for you there between 10:30 pm and midnight as well, that should give you amble time to get the marriage license. You both need to send me a photo of your driver's licenses, by the way. I'm sending you the coordinates for both the marriage bureau and the chapel." Castiel's phone beeps as the message arrives. Lucifer sighs. "I never thought you would be the first to step out of line, Castiel, but well done. I'm wondering whether Zachariah's days as our flight alpha soon are numbered. Preventing us from mating outside the species does not preserve it; I think it is time we have ourselves a revolution. Consider it your wedding present." 

"Oh," Cas breathes, his eyes wide. "You are going to..."

"If he doesn't step down willingly I _will_ challenge him. The kind of mess he's creating here, involving the police, dragging your name through the mud? It's the last drop. It's Zachariah's doing, but it is Michael's game plan. If they continue, they are going to wipe out the North American were-albatross with their ongoing obsession with the cleanliness of our species. I generally agree that we should keep the line pure; only when it means that our clan will die, that idea must die before it. With you and Gabriel supporting change, Raphael keeping out of the line of fire, Michael and Zachariah can bray all they like; there is going to be a change in the nest, so help me God. Now that you have mated, we have a chance, at least, since there is a possibility the flight will get an heir. Some of your fledglings will be fledglings, and not something else. Kittens, apparently."

"Wouldn't count on that," Dean says, deciding not to let himself be offended by Lucifer's obnoxious arrogance. "God's help, I mean. He's probably busy elsewhere. But Sam and I could lend a hand... paw, whatever is needed. Zachariah and I aren't going to be best friends in the immediate future, anyway. Or, ever." No, Dean doesn't like Zachariah much. "If you wanna be nice, find Zachariah a cute little omega outside the nest, that'll probably keep him occupied for some time. I get the notion that you are able to make things happen. There has to be other bird omegas; if you can't get him an albatross, maybe some other winged thing might be tempted to take him?"

Lucifer laughs. "Clearly, Castiel didn't take you only for your looks, Dean. It is possible that a mate would change him. Never thought that it'd help to parade an omega in front of him, but it might represent a nice temptation; one he possibly cannot resist, what with the only North American omega already mated to an alpha from another flight."

"You bet he is," Dean snarls, angry at the mere mention of Castiel in connection with Zachariah. "And it's not a flight, it's a glaring. A glaring of cats. If Zachariah as much as—"

"Easy, Dean, let me have at them with the law first. I tend to stay away from the flight, so Zachariah might have repressed not only that I'm a lawyer, but that I am a very good one. He knows he cannot go up against me. If Zachariah and Michael don't back off, I'll sue for defamation and harassment on your behalf; wrongly accusing an alpha of kidnapping an omega is not going to endear them to any judge, especially when you add to it that they both willfully have ignored Castiel's testimony that he has allowed you to mate with him. Since Castiel told the police repeatedly that he has not been abducted, still being ignored... it's not looking good for my dear brother and uncle. This insistence of theirs... it's not exactly speaking in favor of their case. It will delight me to rip them apart in court. If that doesn't work, they are all yours."

Castiel's big brother sounds like an absolute dick. Apparently, he's an absolute dick who's on their side, so Dean can live with it. "Whatever gets them to back down. Cas is not gonna stop being my mate because they make a fuss."

"There's going to be an heir. I'm pregnant," Cas says, leaning closer to Dean. "You're going to be an uncle, Lucifer."

Lucifer drops the phone, or that is what it sounds like. It takes a few seconds before he's back. "I'm flying out there _right_ now so that I can deal with this myself. I'll alert the press before I leave, letting them have the sob story about how true mates, one a pregnant omega, are being chased by fundamentalists. I'll get the police off your backs, asap. I'll get Ruby to get a court order. Just... be careful. Keep your heads down until I get there." There's a pause. "Good work, Dean, our flight probably isn't in immediate danger of dying out, then, if you managed to get Cas pregnant in two days. Take care of my niece, Castiel, or nephew. I'm off." Then he's gone and the phone is dead.

"Well, that worked too." Dean's smile is so wide it's painful. His nervousness is gone. His kid is growing in Cas's belly, and the more people who know about it the better. His kid. His Cas. His family. His. Dean is beaming with pride. His omega is the most perfect of omegas, so strong and resourceful and wonderful. "Let's pick up that license before anyone finds out that we applied for it."

"We better move," Castiel points out, clearly having difficulties looking away. He stares at Dean's mouth. "But maybe you need to kiss me first."

Dean, of course, obliges.

 

**Chapter 6. Showdown At the Tunnel of Love**

Baby likes the hot climate. With the approaching night, the air is refreshingly cool. The drive through the barren, sun-burned land is pleasant enough. Baby is steady on the road, swallowing up mile after mile. Dean thinks that since they have to flee from the police, at least they are doing it in comfort and style, not that it's the first time that Dean has to make an escape to avoid getting thrown in jail. Usually there's a good reason for it, Dean admittedly is a petty crime man, but not today. Today he's marrying his mate in Vegas, so help him. 

The wind brings with it traces of sirens, but the sound doesn't come closer, so Dean thinks they are keeping ahead of their pursuers. If they are lucky, the backwater cops have not alerted the Arizona police. Dean suspects that the Wolfstown police has an inflated sense of their own abilities, seeing that they refuse to listen to common sense and omegas because they slip across the state border unnoticed. 

Maybe it's the tension and the stress, but right after the crossing, Cas falls asleep against Dean's shoulder. He's overwhelmed by the events, Dean gathers. Not that Cas is a faint and weak omega, he's simply not used to this kind of lifestyle. Dean is hard, hardened by years on the run, poverty at his heels, hunger gnawing at him and Sam at any available point. No, Cas is not used to that. And if it's up to Dean, he won't ever be. This is the first and the last time they are running from the law, Dean swears it. It doesn't matter that Cas is rich and that they won't have to chase the next meal in bars or in the woods. Cas deserves better. Dean will give up being a hunter for him. He'll work in a damned office if he has to, just to make Cas safe and happy. Cas is worth it, any kind of toil and trouble is worth it, just to see Cas pleased and content. There is nobody like Cas.

Dean laughs out loud, making Cas stir in his sleep. He's turning monogamous, one mate for life, just like that, because of Castiel Novak. Castiel Novak-Winchester, to be precise. His wonderful, strong mate. 

No, there sure ain't anyone like Castiel.

So Dean drives on, Vegas getting closer, the road shrouded in the gray cloth of dusk, the night sky is dotted with clear stars. The Nevada state line is behind them. Maybe they did get rid of the police, courtesy of the hurt pride of the Wolfstown sheriff? Maybe Lucifer made Zachariah step down, calling off the hunt? 

Yeah, no. Zachariah is a petty jerk, and even if Castiel insists that Zachariah has redeeming qualities, Dean doesn't believe it. But they haven't see a police car in hours, nor have Dean heard the sirens again. On the other hand, they would have gotten a call from Lucifer if everything was all right by now. Dean relaxes, hesitating to rest calmly in the thought that everything's okay. As they approach Las Vegas, the increasing traffic is slow and languid, like there is no hurry at all. There are no sirens to be heard, nobody is following them, Dean is sure.

It's like the city lights ahead shine for them, like a promise that things _will_ be okay. Reluctantly Dean realizes it: they did it. They got away. 

Desert turns into city. The empty land change into straight boulevards, palms and thirsty little bushes lining the road. It's an odd change, like Vegas is some kind of mirage, something that shouldn't exist in this hot hellhole of a place. The outskirts of the city is the land of car dealers and motels, nobody seems to actually live here; it isn't a very welcoming place.

Castiel stirs again, nuzzling at Dean's neck. The gentle touch and Castiel's muted yawn make Dean feel so content and happy, forgetting for a second where they are going and why. 

"Dean, are we there?" Cas mumbles, sleep-hoarse. "How long did I sleep?"

"Dunno, Baby. A few hours. You needed it. We're almost there." Dean turns his head and presses a kiss to Cas's cheek. He reaches for a bottle of water and hands it to Cas, again wanting to be absolutely sure that his omega is comfortable and cared for. "Maybe we could turn on the GPS? The phone?" Dean looks at the dashboard clock; they are right on time; the marriage license is ready to pick up, and they have a place to get married.

Leaning against Dean, as if he doesn't want to break their contact at all, Cas fiddles with the phone, and the electronic voice fills the car, pointing out, slightly desperately in Dean's opinion, that they have twenty feet to decide against the right turn that Dean is planning. Getting back on course, the GPS informs them that they have ten miles to go, straight ahead.

"We're going to make it," Castiel says, like it surprises him. "We are getting married!"

A dark blue car turns around the corner, driving a bit too close. Dean sends it a glare. There are two women sitting in it. They look like they are chatting, far too occupied to concentrate on driving. Dean looks into Cas's eyes in the rearview mirror. "If we aren't rammed from behind before we arrive, yeah."

Castiel's face is entirely expressionless. "I'd like to be rammed from behind."

Dean splutters. "Cas!"

"You are my mate, are you not? And isn't it a common occurrence, to have intercourse on the wedding night? Thus, it is not an unreasonable request. I am merely indicating which position I prefer."

Dean is snorting from laughter. "Seriously, Cas!"

"So?" The wicked smile on Cas's face says it all.

"I guess we should book a suite or something? I wouldn't want my mate and husband to think we didn't do it properly."

"I think we did it properly the first time," Cas replies, sliding a hand down his stomach. "I don't think I can get any more pregnant than I already am, Dean. But I want you to knot me again. It was pleasurable."

"At your service, baby. Where do you wanna go? You know any hotels here?"

"The Sunset suite at the Four Seasons," Castiel says and starts playing with the phone again. "It is very nice."

Dean is sure it is. He has heard of the Four Seasons. Fuck, it's like he's playing the main role in a surreal version of Pretty Woman, not that Dean ever watched that movie, or even liked it, or cried when Vivian left or anything. Except he isn't a prostitute, and Cas isn't buying.

They drive on, the city coming to life around them, trees, lights, life. Cas speaks on the phone, clearly with a hotel, and Dean is glad that they'll have some kind of normalcy, a proper wedding night, because nothing about their meeting and their mating has been normal thus far. Dean usually doesn't do normal, but now they have a kitten on the way, and Dean wants something to tell his offspring that is not about kidnapping a very willing Cas and dragging him on a road trip across the country with the police at their heels. _Yes, honey, your dad and I went to this luxurious hotel for the wedding night_ sounds a lot better than telling their kid that they were hunted by the police.

Dean feels safer, as safe as can be, knowing that the Impala draws little attention in this gigantic inferno of glitter, neon and money. He's sure Sam didn't mention her, but the Vegas police probably knows about her if they are on par with the situation. Plus, Baby is one of Dean's few belongings that actually has his name to it. But nobody notices her when Dean turns left down Clark Avenue, looking for the marriage license bureau.

 _Hundred feet to Clark County Justice Center_ , the GPS informs him seconds before Dean brakes hard, almost regretting that he never desecrated Baby by installing those seat belts. 

"Shit," Dean breathes, looking at the row of police cars, parked on the side of the road.

"It's the police station, I think," Cas says, putting back in the glove compartment an assortment of stuff that has landed in his lap. "There's no one waiting for us. Not the police, at least."

When Dean is able to breathe again, he sees that Cas is right. It's simply a parking for the police station across the road. "I guess we're not on the most wanted list in Nevada, then. Since the police doesn't have a welcoming committee here to greet us. Your other, other brother might not be entirely useless."

"Of course he isn't. Lucifer is not a pleasant man, I agree, but he is helpful if he can help stir up things."

"Is there anyone in your nest who is remotely decent?" Dean asks, joking, with a tinge of seriousness in it.

"Gabriel, despite his... attitude. If you're worried about Sam—"

"I'm not." Of course Dean is worried; who wouldn't be? This Gabriel is a flirtatious, superficial ass who is preying on his little brother. What's there not to be worried about? God, Dean is going to make a pillow out of Gabriel if he as as much as touched Sam with his dirty paws... wings, whatever. If he has touched him. Period.

Cas sees right through him. "Sam could do worse. Gabriel is..."

"Alpha. And so is Sam."

"And?"

"Sometimes you are too good to be in this world, Cas. Alpha and alpha?"

"Cat and bird, putty cat?"

Dean sighs, shuts his mouth, because _Cas_ , and turns Baby into the small parking lot in front of the Justice Center. It's time for a change of topic before Cas and his damned tolerance of everything were make Dean look like a total jerk that applies one set of morals to himself, and another to the smug little asshole called Gabriel. "One of us should stay here. I don't think it'd be a good idea if you went in, Cas. I'll ask Ms Milton to come out. I guess Lucifer has told her that she might have to. It's your face they have flashed on TV, and it is not exactly forgettable. Nobody is as handsome as you. "

Cas blushes slightly. "You're probably right. I could turn the car around, keep the motor running until you get back out, in case things go wrong."

"Worth anything as a getaway driver, Cas? You are usually ferried around in that gigantic black limo, right? You don't even drive that often."

"I'm a pilot, Dean. I fly planes. I think I am able to drive your car in case it's needed. It is not terribly complicated."

Cas is right, of course. Dean has to learn not to question Cas; he is after all absolutely perfect, flaws and wings and all. "Yes, dear," Dean says and makes a face. "I'm your humble servant."

"I'd appreciate it if my humble servant would kiss me, then go pick up the marriage license so we can get married as soon as possible." Cas makes those eyes, and Dean is sort of... enchanted. "Please, Dean?"

Dean huffs, not the least annoyed, because Cas is wonderful when he turns all CEO on him. Dean gets out of the car, leaving the keys in. A dark blue car slides into the spot next to the Impala. Dean glances at it before he sticks his head inside the Impala, watching Castiel shuffle around, sliding into the driver's seat. "I'll be back in... I have no idea. I have no frigging idea where the license office is. Other than inside the Justice Center." One look at Cas makes it abundantly clear that Cas has patience left, but not that much. "Yes, I'll hurry." Dean places a kiss on Cas's nose, then walks away without looking back. Cas handles whatever happens outside, Dean knows he will. That's what perfection is about. There is nothing Cas can't do.

*

Dean hurries up the stairs, not knowing who he's looking for. He steps inside, into a huge lobby, looking for some kind of indication of where the Marriage License Bureau is located. He doesn't get far. A woman, her long red hair immediately catching Dean's attention, gets up from a chair and approaches him. "Dean Winchester?" She holds out her hand. "I'm Anna Milton. Mr Alighieri asked me to meet you here."

A relieved sigh leaves Dean's chest. "Yes, thank you, I mean. Yes, I'm Dean." He shakes her hand. It's small and slim, but her grip is firm. There's definitely more to Ms Milton than a pretty face and a fire-red hair. 

"Good. I have your documents ready." She has a folder stuck under her left arm. She pats it, indicating that she brought them with her.

"Lucifer... Mr Alighieri said that you could..." Dean points with a thumb over his shoulder. "Cas has to sign them, too, right? Because I didn't—"

"I know why. Let's not speak about it here. Just a second, I'll have to get the notary; we wouldn't want anyone to be in doubt of the... voluntariness of the signature, given the circumstance." Ms Milton turns away, waving at a guy sitting in another chair, clearly having waited with Ms Milton for their arrival. "Inias, please!"

A tall, thin guy strides across the marble floor, a tablet in his right hand, another folder in his left. "Ms Milton."

"It's the couple we talked about. The couple we _don't_ talk about."

"I see." Inias nods. "And your, erm, your... fiancé, Mr, Mr, erm?"

Dean doesn't care to give a name. The notary knows who he is, otherwise he wouldn't be here, _not_ talking about them. And this Inias wouldn't be here if Lucifer didn't think the man could keep a secret.

"Outside, in the car."

"Yes. I... understand. We should probably..." Inias fidgets with the tablet, and Ms Milton takes his arm, pulling him towards the exit. 

"Today," Ms Milton urges. Inias, we need to hurry."

Dean's guess is that Ms Milton and Cas will get along swimmingly. Anna Milton has a vague scent of omega coming off her, and if Dean has to say it, Ms Milton's alpha probably is just about as omega-whipped as Dean is, because Ms Milton is bright and bossy and beautiful. Dean takes a deep breath as not to laugh. Yeah, the alphas who once thought that omegas were sweet little things, made to bear children, barefoot and whatnot, couldn't have been more wrong. Plus, they must have been idiots not to understand how utterly _hot_ it is, being ordered around by a dominant omega. Dean briefly congratulates himself on that thought, and reminds himself that he needs to explore that particular idea at a later point. In bed. With Cas. Who could maybe wear a suit and tie and pretend to be a businessman, having a one-on-one with his sec—

Dean returns to reality.

Cas is watching them from the Impala as they walk down the stairs, fast. Dean gives him a wink and a thumb-up, signaling that despite the hurry, everything is fine.

As Ms Milton opens her folder, Dean gives Cas's arm a squeeze through the open window. "This is Ms Milton, and, er, Inias. He's a notary. Maybe you should tell them that—"

"I am here of my own free will," Cas says. "I think they have figured that out, seeing that you left me with your car, motor running, for five minutes, Dean. I'm still here." Cas nods graciously to Ms Milton and the notary. "Like Dean said," Cas says, "I am here to acquire a marriage license so that I can marry my mate with no further interruptions or unwanted interest in what should be a private matter between my alpha and me."

"Lucifer made your... situation clear to us," Ms Milton says. "And it is duly noted. If you'd please show us your ID, then sign on the line here and here." She points at the document with her pen before she hands the clipboard folder to Cas. "Please check that the information is correct. I understand that you have reserved a slot at a nearby chapel?"

Dean looks at the dashboard clock. "The Tunnel of Love, between now and midnight, yes." He laughs and takes the clipboard so that he, too, can add his signature. "It couldn't be more tacky, but we're getting married in the car."

"It is a very nice car," Inias comments and slams a stamp on the document.

"I like you," Dean says, watching as Inias adds his signature at the bottom. "Good man."

"Inias is were too. A heron," Ms Milton corrects him. "Everything should be in order now. Congratu—" 

"Excuse me?" The voice belongs to someone who is not Ms Milton.

Dean turns. It's a woman in a black suit. Behind her is another woman. He has seen them before. Dark blue car, behind them, driving into Vegas. He doesn't have to look again to know what they are. 

"Cas."

Dean doesn't have to explain. Cas shoves the door open. He scoots over and Dean jumps into the car, in his mind praising Cas for letting the engine run. 

The two women starts running towards the car as Dean revs up and steps on it. "FBI! Mr Winchester, we need to talk to you!"

Baby is on the road before the two agents can get to them. They are running towards their car. Ms Milton is waving and shouting. A few torn words reach them.

"—come find you—" 

"She knows where we're going. I don't think the agents heard it. Cas, get the GPS. And if I'm ever going to rob a bank, you're coming with me," Dean adds when he sees that Cas is already typing on the phone they stole from the doctor.

"And I'll call Lucifer," Cas says, "I have this, Dean, just drive. Left, right, two blocks down, and right." 

Dean knows he has won when he decided to join the mating lottery. Cas is not just perfect. He is _awesome_ and Dean falls even deeper in love with Cas as he throws Baby around a corner like she's hell on wheels, and Cas just sits there, phone in hand and tells somebody at the end of the line that he would appreciate assistance as he is currently being chased by the FBI. Yeah, he's fucking awesome.

Baby gives all she has and races down the wide boulevard, taking over a line of cars before Dean yanks her right, right in front of a truck. The driver honks at them angrily. Baby doesn't care, and neither does Dean, because right in front of them is the blinking neon sign that points to the Tunnel of Love. Dean fistpumps.

"—here now, Lucifer," Castiel says. "Yes, please make sure Ms Milton and the notary meet us there. Yes, the venue you booked. You are sure Zachariah took the other company jet? He might be on his way then? Right. Yes. Really? You think so? And Raphael is all right with it? I thought you wanted— No, I can see why. Yes. Yes. I will. Goodbye."

Dean slows down the Impala and makes a not-so-rubber-ruining turn into the driveway. "Last chance to say no," Dean says, grinning like an idiot.

"No, Dean."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, Dean."

"Stop teasing me, tweety." Dean eases Baby closer to the drive-up window. He can't keep down a purr. "Oh, yeah. We did it."

"We did." This time it is Cas who leans in, kissing Dean on the mouth, just a brief, warm touch, tasting of Cas and a little of something sweet, soda, maybe.

Dean stops Baby right underneath the window. A man clad in a nice blue suit smiles at them. "Welcome. Mr Novak-Winchester, I assume?" 

"Yes." 

Dean turns to Cas. Cas is clutching the marriage license as if his life depended on it, which it sort of does. Their life together. Mated, married and not a police car in sight, Dean's life has taken the biggest U-turn ever. No more hustling pool and doing credit card scams. As for U-turns, Dean's sure he could become a great getaway driver, only married to Cas, he won't have to. No more scams, no more hustling, stealing, and no earning a few bucks on a handjob in a seedy bar or in a back alley. Well, it was only a few times, and only because they had no food, Sam and he. No more of that, either. Then again, he's mated and married to a Forbes 500 billionaire and he still has the police looking for him. Some things never change.

Dean takes the license from Cas and hands it to the marriage officiant before he takes Cas's hand. Dean us suddenly shaking, like this is _it_ , the end and beginning of his journey, a turning point in his life. Nothing will ever be the same again.

"I'm so happy I found you," Dean tells Cas, knowing that he'd be just as happy if Cas had been poor. Dean would have taken care of him, just like he's been taking care of Sam until Sam popped his knot and insisted on being an adult and take care of himself. "I really am, Cas." Dean's purr gets even louder.

"Did you know," Cas asks, slightly nervous, at least Dean thinks so; Castiel doesn't fidget the way he fidgets right now, so yeah, he's nervous, "that the young albatross takes off after it has learned to fly, and never touches ground until it is five-six years old. It lives on the wind, sleeps on the ocean. It does not come back to land until it is ready to mate. For life."

"Late bloomers?" Dean kisses Castiel's hand. "Like you."

"The albatross courts its mate for years before he takes a mate. You courted me for less than two minutes and I mated with you in less than two days. There is nothing late about that."

"Well, I admit that you are not as slow as the rest of the family." Dean pulls Castiel close; he's getting addicted to this, having his mate at his side, his scent the most alluring perfume Dean has ever smelled. Everything about Cas is attractive. "I'd have waited for you if you had wanted me to," Dean admits, and it is true. He'd have waited forever, because he firmly believes that Castiel is his soulmate, his true mate, all the fluffy, stupid bullshit that people sprout when they are in love. There is no such thing as true mates, but if there were, Castiel would be Dean's. They are made for each other, bound together in a perfect bond, and if anyone accuses Dean of being a soppy romantic for pointing that out to everyone and their aunt, he'll sock them in the face. Their love is the epitome of what love should be, in Dean's humble opinion, and it cannot be compared to anything as pedestrian as other people's love.

"Who's slow?" The doors to the back are opened, suddenly and without warning. "You can't mean us."

Dean and Cas turn around at the same time.

"Gabriel!" Cas exclaims, exactly when Dean growls a, "Sammy, what the hell?"

"Lucifer tattled," Gabriel says as he slides into the back seat. "We went on the company jet with him, but he took off, on his own wings, right after we landed."

"Lucifer flew, by himself? On wings?" Castiel looks like it's not something that happens everyday. 

"Yes. Not that I'm complaining; four hours with him on a plane; it's a miracle we haven't killed each other already." Gabriel grins. "I frigging love my bro, but he's the biggest asshole this side of the globe." Gabriel purses his mouth. "Nah, Michael is still worse. He'd probably feel better if he didn't insist on keeping that stick up his ass. If at least he masturbated with it once in a—"

"Yes, thank you, Gabriel." Sam's definitely not taking shit from Gabriel. It's his prissy voice, mouth, everything.

Dean smirks, because Sam sure has Gabriel on a short leash. Gabriel stares up at Sam, mirth not leaving his eyes. Maybe Sam doesn't have as firm a hold on that leash as he might think. Anyway, they are two alphas; there has to be a pissing contest at some point. Dean feels better now that Sam is here, because Gabriel is not going to touch Sam on his watch. Cas's nest brother or not, Gabriel is behaving or Dean will be very dissatisfied.

A slight cough from the marriage officiant in the window above them reminds Dean that they are here for something more important than to listen to Gabriel. Dean takes Cas's hand again. It is warm, a little damp.

"Don't fret," Dean whispers. "If it makes you feel better, I am going to say yes."

"Idiot." Cas sighs. Yep, they have spent too much time together, although there is no way Dean can spend too much time with Cas. "So am I. Saying yes. Despite knowing better." 

Dean resists blowing Cas a strawberry because he suddenly thinks of something. "Wait. Music. Can't get married without music." Dean rummages around in the glove compartment for a tape; he knows exactly what he's looking for. He checks that the tape is rewound to the beginning and puts it into the cassette. Cas doesn't like AC/DC, but he has to like Aerosmith. Everybody likes Aerosmith. Dean hums along with Steven Tyler as the song starts. " _Ba-ah-by, you're my angel. Come and save me tonight,_ " Dean sings, winking at Cas when the chorus starts. He refuses to be ashamed of how utterly _gone_ he is for Cas. Yeah, he's silly and romantic, but this is Cas and they are in love. Dean looks Cas in the eye. _Without your love I'm nothing but a beggar,_ he croons, until he laughs, ruining the song, because Cas looks at him like he's gone crazy. Dean turns down the volume and the song becomes a pleasant humming in the background.. "We're ready."

"Do you wish to say any vows before the rite of consent?" the officiant asks.

"No. Yes." Dean shakes his head. "I don't have anything other than..." He looks at Cas, taking in the soft expression in his eyes, the way his hair sticks up, a right mess. "When I met you, I had no idea what love was. I love Sam. And Baby, of course." Dean pats the wheel. "But you... I swear, Cas, that I'm going to make you the happiest omega on Earth. I am so—" Dean suddenly remembers that they are not alone, and that the soppy declaration is very uncharacteristic for him. He never tells people shit like that. But fuck it. It's Cas. Dean wants to tell him. "I am in love with you, and I will make it so you never regret that you agreed to run away with me."

"I know, Dean." Cas's mouth curls, then he laughs and the soft smile turns in a wide one. "I love you. I'll do my best to make you happy too." Cas looks at the officiant. "Please, proceed."

"Do you, Dean Winchester take Cas—"

"Yes!"

His impatience makes Gabriel giggle, and Sam snorts.

"Castiel Novak as you lawfully wedded omega, and do you swear to honor, protect and cherish him as an omega should be cherished, honored and protected?"

"And love him. Don't forget love him. Yes!"

"Do you, Castiel Novak, take Dean Winchester as your lawfully wedded alpha, and do you swear to honor, obe—"

"Hold it!" Dean points at the officiant. "You do _not_ say that word aloud. Cas does not have to obey anything or anyone." 

The officiant looks baffled, but he clearly isn't too stupid because he takes only a second to recover before continues. "Do you, Castiel Novak, take Dean Winchester as your lawfully wedded alpha, and do you swear to honor, protect, cherish and love him as an alpha should be honored, cherished, loved and protected?"

"Yes!"

The officiant looks relieved. "Since you have pledged your love and your dedication to each other in front of witnesses—and if no one has more to add— I will now, by the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, declare you alpha and omega, joined as husbands in marriage. Misters Winchester-Novak, you may now kiss."

Dean immediately plants a wet kiss on Cas's mouth while Sam and Gabriel whoop and applaud. Castiel becomes pliant in Dean's embrace, and Dean feels so weak for his mate, his omega, his frigging _husband_. "We're married," Dean whispers, adverse to let go of Cas. "Married. Who'd have thought."

"My alpha," Castiel murmurs. Dean thinks he could just as well have said, 'my slave', because that is how it's gonna be. There is nothing Dean won't do for his mate and their child, nothing. Dean engages in another kiss, soft and deep and wet. Cas's tongue is in his mouth, a deep purr welling from his throat. Dean's hands are in Cas's hair, messing it up even more while Cas clings to him.

Gabriel has the decency to shut up until they are done.

"Let's get the hell outta here and go celebrate!" Dean turns on the ignition and drives forward, out of the Tunnel of Love. Then there are distinct sounds of kissing from the back seat, and Dean decides that he cannot deal with that right this instant, refusing to check in the rearview mirror what his brother is doing with Cas's brother.

Also, it looks like he won't get the opportunity. They played it well, but the game's over. For now.

A flash of blue lights meets them when they exit. Two police vehicles are parked outside, fronts creating a V, effectively preventing Baby from moving past them. A number of officers are pointing at them, guns drawn, and a higher ranging policeman, partly hidden behind a car, is raising a megaphone.

"Mr Winchester, come out, hands over your head!"

Castiel makes a distressed sound. 

Dean rubs Cas's hand, trying to calm him. "This ain't my first rodeo, tweety. Don't worry. We have Ms Milton nearby, Lucifer is on his way. We are mated and married. Nothing's gonna happen to me, apart from maybe a few bruises. Gabriel's here, and Sam. You take care of our baby, and Baby, yeah?" Dean buries his nose in Cas's hair, rubbing his face in it, wanting Cas's scent with him, marking Cas as his, writing _mate, mate, mate_ all over him. But they have proof now, apart from scent and mating marks. They are married, and there can be no doubt that Cas said yes because he wanted it.

"Yes. Be careful, Dean." Castiel's expression changes, turning from soft and slightly besotted into the mask of the CEO he is. This is a Castiel that no one in their right mind would stand against. Again Dean's heart swells with pride. His mate is... there is no one like Cas. 

Gabriel and Dean echo Cas's plea. "Careful, Dean."

Dean nods, opening the driver side door slowly, one hand up. "Unarmed!" he shouts. "Coming out. Don't shoot." Dean slides out, calm movements, no cheekiness. He has no need; his mate's got his back. It's not like he wants to be separated from Castiel or from Sam, for that matter, not for any length of time, but for once Dean understands that his usual perky facade isn't going to help. He is not alone, and that makes a difference. He can do this. Without the sarcasm. Keeping both hands high, he gets down on his knees, putting his hands behind his head. Bracing himself for the unpleasant manhandling, Dean looks down, closing his eyes for a second, ready. 

The sound of a car accelerating, braking, the smell of burning rubber reach Dean. His head snaps up, eyes wide, as a dark blue car stops, sliding sideways towards the closest police car, almost hitting it. A brunette in a suit gets out, followed by a second agent. The driver flips open her badge. "FBI! We're taking over. Step down, officers."

The other agent has her badge out too. "Agents Hanscum and Mills. Step away from the suspect. Castiel Novak-Winchester, please step out of the car."

It's the two agents that have been following them since they drove into Las Vegas. Fuck, the shit just got even deeper. Dean could cry. If they are arresting Cas too, for doing nothing, it's all his fault. For a split second Dean wonders whether he'd rather have walked past Cas the moment they met outside Hotel Dante. Only Dean knows for certain that it had never been an option. And besides, he'll do anything for Cas, anything to have a mate like him. And since there is only one Cas it's Cas or no one. Nah, Dean would never have walked away from that.

"Agents, please," Dean shouts. "Castiel has done nothing, it's my fault. All of it is my fault. Whatever it is that you are accusing us of."

Cas is out of the car. Dean can hear the shuffle of footsteps behind him. "Of course it is not Dean's fault. I went willingly to mate with my alpha. And we have just married—"

The dark-haired agent walks around the police cars. She holds a hand out to Dean. Dean stares at it.

"You might want to get up, Mr Novak-Winchester."

Dean still stares. His brain is catching up as fast as a sluggish snail. "Erm, yes, please, Agent..."

"Mills." Agent Mills takes Dean's hand and pulls him up. "We are well aware of the circumstances of your... road trip. Your attorneys, Ms Milton and Mr Alighieri have explained to us that nothing untoward has happened. Ms Milton is on her way here with the notary in case it was needed. We also spoke to the sheriff and the local doctor in Wolfstown and it is clear that the law has been a bit too tenacious in this case. Dr Roberts sends her greetings, by the way, and asked us to tell you that you owe her a cell phone. She'd have called, but she couldn't find her iPhone."

"She'd like the iPhone 6S," the agent who is Agent Hanscum adds. "In rose gold."

"What?" Dean says, not really on par with the events. "Muh?"

"I'll see to that immediately," Cas says, elbowing Dean in the side. "Dean."

"Yes, erm. iPhone. Check."

"We apologize for the mess," Agent Mills says. Agent Hanscum walks away from them, apparently to clear things up with the local law enforcement. "Your flight alpha seems to have a quite outdated idea of running a pack... flight. It's regrettable that were law isn't prioritized everywhere. Your brother-in-law has quite the opposite idea; he was as kind as to inform us of Mr Zachariah Alighieri's... misunderstood care for Mr Novak-Winchester."

Dean stares at the agent, trying to say something remotely intelligible. He doesn't succeed.

"Oh, and Ms Milton had your friend Mr Lafitte released, too," Agent Mills adds. "He let us know in writing that he'll contact you to thank you for your help at a later point—when he has his voice back. For some reason it seems to have disappeared when he was incarcerated under inadequate conditions at the Wolfstown holding cells. It is really unfortunate how the police in Wolfstown lack even the base understanding of were needs."

A nice way to say that the Wolfstown Sheriff's Department is filled with ignorant turds and that Zachariah is a jerk. Dean beams at Agent Mills in appreciation of her work. "So we're... free?" he finally manages.

"Didn't do anything wrong. You most certainly are free to go. My congratulations. Both on the marriage and..." Agent Mills nods in the direction of Cas. Cas's belly. "Doctor Roberts told us. She didn't think you'd mind."

Cas shakes his head. "My nest brothers will be able to scent it anyway in a week or two, so no, we don't mind."

Around them the Vegas police are collecting their stuff, slinking away like dogs with their tails behind their legs. Suits them. Dean glares at the commanding officer. Assholes, all of them. He relaxes, all tension leaving him, and puts his arm around Cas's shoulder. Castiel turns into him, a hand clutching at Dean's shirt, his face against Dean's neck. Cas is shaking, like he too has been tense and afraid. Dean holds him tight, the mere physical contact is enough to make it better, Dean thinks; that's the way Cas's touch and scent work for him.

Sam and Gabriel come out to stand with them, Sam's hand on Dean's back, Gabriel squeezing Cas's arm so hard that Cas whimpers slightly.

"Dude, you sure deliver, entertainment-wise," Gabriel says. "Dammit, Deano, it's not too boring hanging out with you and Sammy."

Dean snorts and expects the usual 'don't call me Sammy' from Sam, but it doesn't come. Dean looks questioningly at Sam. He shakes his head. 

"Don't kill him, Dean. He is not doing it on purpose," Sam attempts. Dean mentally flips Gabriel the bird, but wisely keeps his hands on Cas, because that is so much more important than making the pocket-sized canary shut his cakehole.

Gabriel does redeem himself a little, however. He looks at Agent Mills with eyes that are much more eagle and predator than soft albatross eyes. He offers Agent Mills his business card. Dean eyes it. _Gabriel Alighieri, President, Alighieri Inc. Legal Division_. "I assume you are going to make all accusations go away, and that you will have _every_ medium that has as much as made a tweet about my brother and his husband make an apology, or I'll sue everybody and their aunt, including aunts currently employed in the police, FBI or any other similar service for slander." Gabriel looks like he's enjoying the prospect of a good battle. Were-albatrosses are frigging _fierce_.

Yeah, the accusations are going to go away. Fast. And if that doesn't help, there is always Lucifer. He seems to be in a league all of his own, Dean thinks.

Agent Mills is not easily scared. "I understand. We don't want any repeat performances of this." She waves a hand in the general direction of the police vehicles that are rolling away. "We'll issue a statement and an official apology immediately, Sir."

There is sudden commotion when a Beetle rolls into the Love Tunnel's parking lot, followed by a honking limousine. "Well, there sure are some people who can't wait to get married," Dean comments. "Don't people have any patience these days?" Four sets of eyes turn to Dean , staring at him. "Oh," Dean says. "Me and Cas. No, that's different." He looks back at them. "It's Cas. Anyone would be impatient to marry him—"

"Nice try, bro." Gabriel pats Dean on the shoulder. "You wouldn't know patience if you stepped on it, dude."

"Gabe, really?" Another chiding from Sam. Dean suspects that he likes the little guy; Sam only chides people he likes. Those he doesn't like usually get the harsher treatment.

The approaching limo honks again, several times.

"What the hell!" Dean releases Castiel, annoyed. He should get Baby ut of the way before the driver hits her. There will be bloody murder, wedding day or not, if that asshole touches his car. If he as much as _breathes_ on it.

"It's Ms Milton!" Castiel points at the first car, the Beetle. "And the notary."

Agent Mills, Dean and Cas walk towards the car, Sam and Gabriel following them, the annoyed limo driver forgotten. 

"And Lucy." Gabriel makes a half-hearted wave as a tall, blond man disentangles himself from the minuscule car. "Lucifer!"

"Moment." Lucifer holds up a finger, as to signal that it takes but a second. He brushes invisible lint off his impeccable suit, takes six long strides, obviously angry, to the limo and yanks the door open. Without any further ado, he pulls out a bulky, balding man by the tie, glaring at him. Zachariah. "I am so damned tired of you, you awful, talentless piece of useless meat," Lucifer growls. "I am appalled by the way you run our flight, and if you don't improve, I swear I'll see to it that you won't run it for very long," Lucifer hisses in the face of his flight alpha. "What in God's name is wrong with you? Your ancient rule is over, Zachariah. Leave Castiel alone, or so help me, I will have you killed and made a stuffed albatross out of you. I have takers, I promise you, who'd like a nice specimen. You are presently not winning any popularity contests with the nest, Uncle. I am not taking more of this nonsense from you and Michael. The were-albatross is superior to all other weres, but it's not very elitist to be extinct, is it?"

Zachariah turns red from anger. "You will do as I command, or I will have you banished from the flight, you unruly devil chick. I demand proof that Castiel is mated to this...." Zachariah's face turns even more red as he splutters Dean's name. "This... Winchester-character. Castiel would never have agreed to take up company with a criminal." He tries to pry Lucifer's fingers off his tie, having a hard time breathing. "Let go of me!"

Agent Hanscum joins them. She looks at Dean for confirmation." Perhaps we should..."

Dean doesn't hide his smug expression. "Give it a minute."

"Are you possibly enjoying this assault on Mr Zachariah Alighieri, Sir?" Agent Hanscum looks exactly as pleased as Dean.

"Immensely," Dean admits. "A minute, okay. Just let me bask in the glory of it for a minute. I don't think that Lucifer's gonna kill him. Yet. If he gets blue in the face, then you probably..." Dean sort of expects Castiel to say something, but Castiel is silent. Sometimes revenge is a dish that is enjoyed much more than wedding cake, even better than wedding _pie_.

"It is done," Lucifer sneers, his face very close to Zachariah's. "Castiel, Gabriel, Raphael and I cast you down. You are no longer alpha. If you want a fight, I am at your service."

Zachariah turns from red to white. He pales. "I... I..." He straightens up. "No promiscuous omegas are allowed voice in the nest. Castiel's bray must be ignored. It is the law, you know it as well as I do."

Dean growls loudly. His hands ache as claws press from inside, threatening to break through the skin. He takes two steps in Zachariah's direction "I thought I kidnapped him, but now, when it's convenient, he's suddenly promiscuous? Right."

Ms Milton decides that this is her cue. "Fortunately we do have proof. Proof of marriage _and_ mating. And witnesses that the marriage license and the oath were given with Castiel's full consent. I assume that is by far enough to satisfy the outdated rules of your outdated rule. "Inias, please?" 

Lucifer releases Zachariah, who attempts to straighten his tie and smooth out the wrinkles in his suit. Zachariah heaves a sigh. "This is what I get for trying to keep a clean nest after your father left for the eternal wind and the endless ocean. His death was too early, and now see what became of you, how deep you have fallen from the sky." There's a flicker of sadness in the way Zachariah looks at Lucifer. Dean, despite his anger, wonders if Zachariah really did try. Maybe that is what Cas means when he says that Uncle Douche-Zach isn't 100% bad. Dean's not convinced, but Cas is probably right. He usually is.

Inias the notary comes closer, hesitating for a moment as if he's not sure how to approach the angry alpha. "Mr Alighieri?"

"Yes," Zachariah sneers, his mouth turning angry and narrow as he whips around to glare at the person who dares interrupt his tirade. "Oh." Zachariah's mouth hangs slightly open. "You..." he manages. "Who..."

"Inias," Inias says, holding out the folder he is carrying, but paying it no attention. Neither is Zachariah.

"Inias," Zachariah repeats, voice soft.

"He's a heron," Ms Milton says.

"Aha, interesting," Zachariah says distractedly. Dean's sure he is registering nothing but Inias's soulful eyes. "That's nice. Herons are, erm. Complex plumage. Good fliers."

Gabriel sniggers. "Did not see that coming. Lucifer had plans, but I don't think he planned that. Heron, hm? Nice."

"Behave," Sam demands. "God, you are horrible, Gabriel."

"Maybe we should break out the Champagne? We do have Champagne somewhere, right?"

Lucifer has calmed down a little, returning to the impeccable, cool lawyer he was before Zachariah arrived. He watches Zachariah, and Zachariah's obvious downfall for a little before he joins the rest of them. "Champagne? Zachariah's limousine. I'm sure he was unable to make the drive from the airport without a fully stocked bar. So, does someone offer to assist me in stealing away whatever he stocked it with? Dean? I understand that you are almost as experienced as us lawyers when it comes to stealing from people? Do you mind?"

Dean can't decide whether he is about to jump for joy because they seem to have lost Zachariah, at least he doesn't seem to care about anything but Inias right now, or if he should punch Lucifer in the face for being a rude asshole. Then again, Lucifer is right: Dean has some experience when it comes to getting... free drinks. And other free stuff.

Then a flash goes off behind them. Dean turns around, and there's a camera in his face, and a journalist holding a microphone. Castiel squeezes Dean's arm. "I have this one, putty tat," he whispers, kissing Dean's cheek, leaving no doubt what their relationship is. "Lucifer prepared me for this." 

Dean nods. He'd probably say something he shouldn't, like shouting at the journalists that Cas is _his, his, his_ — which he is, but in Dean's opinion, the whole world should know. "At them, tweety," Dean encourages as Cas is whisked away by the approaching members of the press.

"Yes, newly married. Dean Winchester is my alpha mate and husband," Dean hears Cas reply to a question. He listens as the journalist rudely asks about Dean's heritage. No, Dean is not an albatross, which is what Cas tells her. "Our flight no longer restrict ourselves when it comes to choosing our mates," Castiel states firmly. "We no longer adhere to ancient beliefs. Maybe my Uncle Zachariah, our oldest alpha, would like to add to that?" Castiel points at Zachariah who clearly doesn't give a shit, because he is far too busy staring lovingly at Inias who oddly enough, given Zachariah's lack of redeeming features, seems to be just as interested. "No, I don't think he has," Castiel continues. "But at least we can establish by now, what with the recent events in mind, that the American were-albatross is no longer endangered." 

Maybe it's on purpose, maybe not, but Cas's hand slides over his stomach, resting there protectively. 

It does not escape the interviewer's attention. "Mr Novak-Wincester, are we wrong if we... assume that there are more happy news to come?"

"Let's discuss those at a later point," Cas says, smiling as he looks down at his still flat belly. "In... nine months, perhaps?"

"On behalf of the WTV and our viewers, congratulations. I am sure everybody is glad to hear that the American were-albatross family has a bright future ahead of it. Since there have been rumors that Zachariah Alighieri, the flight alpha, is stepping down, may I ask who the next albatross flight alpha is going to be?"

Castiel looks over his shoulder, at Lucifer, then at Gabriel, eyebrow raised. Gabriel smiles in return, and Lucifer makes a grimace, then nods. Castiel returns to look at the journalist. "You may. The rumors are true. Zachariah will evidently be busy planning his mating ceremony, and he _will_ step down."

"And you are going to choose a new alpha, then?" The journalist asks, eyeing the scoop. "Who is the new alpha of the Alighieri clan and flight?"

Cas smiles that beatific smile that Dean _knows_ so well. It means that Castiel has something planned, something surprising.

" _I_ am," Cas says.

If Dean thought he had been proud of Castiel before, it is nothing compared to how he feels now.

*

With the revolution planned and executed, and with the unexpected help from Inias—unexpected for Inias, too—Zachariah only makes a minor fuss over his dethronement. Inias seems to have a calming effect on old Zach; Dean could have told them that. For some strange reason, Inias seems content with the situation; maybe he's just a friendly and pleasant person, although Dean for the love of anything that's holy cannot see how Inias can find Zachariah remotely attractive. It might be that Cas is right: Zachariah probably has something that makes him interesting as a mate. Dean won't offend Inias by suggesting it could be money; Inias doesn't look like a gold-digger, and besides, money doesn't matter when one is hit by that strange soul-mate feeling, Dean could have told them that, too.

Castiel has finally escaped the journalists who are now busy bothering Lucifer. Dean is pleased to have his alpha-and-omega back and he refuses to let go of Castiel's hand. Offering Sam a drink from the Champagne bottle they stole from Zachariah, Dean's mood is improving. He's married, he's getting slightly drunk and his mate is the epitome of awesome. There isn't much in Dean's life that isn't working. Seems like Zachariah's fall from fame and into, at least at some point, Dean believes, Inias's arms has mellowed the entire albatross lot. Even Lucifer looks minimally pleased. Maybe he, too, imagines finding a mate in the near future. 

Maybe it's just time, the right time, like the entire albatross gene poll has decided to rebel and go look for new blood at this exact moment. Which sort of does not bode well for Sam. Dean has seen how Gabriel looks at him, despite Sam being an alpha. He better nip this in the bud before the little shit puts his clammy hands on Sam's... on Sam. Anywhere on Sam.

Suddenly determined to prevent anything growing between Gabriel and and Dean's innocent little brother, including things Dean does _not_ want to think about growing, he leans in to whisper in Cas's ear. "I need a word with your brother. It might get ugly."

"Yes, Dean."

There is this look again that says that Cas _knows_ something. God, Cas is going to drive him insane with it and Dean cannot stop himself from pulling Cas close so he can kiss him. Cas comes willingly.

"Dean?"

"You're awesome." Cas looks a little confused, but that's fine, too, because Dean likes it. Confused, tired, happy, asleep, bossy, anything, and Cas is awesome. "Awesome," Dean repeats for good measure, letting Cas go. 

He turns away, about to give Gabriel a piece of his mind when he realizes that Gabriel is yapping something at him already, and that Sam nods appreciatively.

"What?" Dean sneers, none too serious about it. "I don't have the patience for your blabbering?"

"I like you, Dean. And I don't like patience. So here we go: Sam's moving in with me."

"He is _what_?" Dean looks from Gabriel to Sam and back again, when something is dawning. "Oh no. You didn't!"

Sam is pulling at the collar of his plaid shirt. There is a clear mark on his neck, a perfect mark, a row of teeth-shaped little wounds. "Like he said. Gabriel and patience." 

"Yeah, too late, Deano." Gabriel smirks and looks up at Sam. "He's not an omega, but who says two alphas can't mate?" Gabriel pulls at his own t-shirt. There's a wound right over his collar bone. "I guess the Winchester genes are perfect for us, for me and Cas."

"I am—" Dean shuts his mouth audibly, so hard it makes his teeth hurt. He should probably keep very, very quiet now. Alpha mating with alpha is socially more acceptable than albatross mating with Bengal, Dean is sure. And Gabriel didn't exactly kidnap Sam, there's that, too. Dean is so not going to take the moral high ground and dig the hole he's in any deeper. Nope. "Great."

Gabriel should have been a werecat, not a frigging rubber duck. The tiny asshole looks like he got into the cream, and judging from Sam's content, dazed expression, it sure ain't too far from the truth. Damn. Okay, so there's a shovel and a hole and Dean's in it. If he digs it a bit deeper he can hide Gabriel's dead body in it. Good.

"I'm gonna kill you dead," Dean says casually, sending Gabriel a glare that could have scared lesser weres. But Gabriel is oblivious, of course he is. "For mating my brother without asking permission!"

"Shut up, Dean," Sam says. "Or I'm going to wring your neck."

"Great, let's keep up the festive mood, shall we! Think happy thoughts," Gabriel beams. "Cas?"

"Dean is fine with it." Castiel directs his blue-eyed, innocent gaze to Dean. "I haven't told him yet that we are neighbors. I suppose he wouldn't mind living next door to Sam. He has expressed concern that Bobby Singer's Salvage Yard might not be good enough for me. Silly thought. If it is good enough for Dean, it is good enough for me."

Oh, Dean is fine. Dean is _fucked_. Dean is going to live where Cas tells him they'll live. He is so omega-whipped that he should have a prize for it. Most omega-whipped alpha of the year, 2015. Dean takes Cas's hand, not saying another word. Maybe if he keeps holding Cas's hand, he won't dig the hole any deeper.

"Aw, twue wuw," Gabriel says. "Sweet. And now I suggest you both... skedaddle. Get the fuck out of Vegas."

"What the—" Dean snorts. "I'll have you know we have reserved a suite at the Four Seasons."

"We could take the company jet back to Chicago, Dean. Fly." Cas's devious expression does not elude Dean. He's in on whatever hellish plan it is that Gabriel has cooked up. "Or we could—" 

"Go while the press and Uncle Zach are otherwise occupied," Gabriel interrupts. At Dean's clueless expression, Gabriel sends him a look. He clearly believes that Dean's intelligence is particularly underwhelming. "Honeymoon. A real one. Car, Cas, Aspen. Road trip back to the Windy City. Got a problem with that?"

"Oh." Dean suddenly likes Gabriel a lot better, despite preying on Sam. "No. No problem at all. Oh, yes!"

"Now. Go." Sam makes a small wave. "Have fun."

Dean smirks and grabs Cas's hand. "What do you say, Cas? You need to polish your getaway driving skills? I think I had too much Champagne."

"Keys," Cas demands. "Let's go. And you should note that if I have to drive, I find it only a reasonable that I choose the music."

Dean doesn't protest. Instead he shuts his cakehole like a good omega-whipped were should. Cas is the flight alpha after all. Good thing that he's so in love with Cas that he enjoys every moment of it. Dean digs for the keys in his pocket at throws them to Cas. God almighty, he's omega-whipped. And alpha-whipped, as per this night. But Dean swears to himself that at some point Cas _will_ learn to love AC/DC. Dean has his entire life to teach him.


End file.
